


We're Not Forever (But This Moment is Enough)

by AStarlightMonbebe



Category: NU'EST, Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: A lot of sadness and memories and trauma r i p, Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Blame Me, Bus Stop, But there are a lotttttt of sub-plots seriously all the ships are sub-plots, Competition is the main plot, Daehwi is a smol awkward child, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Ships are either enemies or fluffy fluffballs, This turns dark fast sorry, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-01-20 01:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 58,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12421914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AStarlightMonbebe/pseuds/AStarlightMonbebe
Summary: Daehwi moves from the States, Samuel is the boy next door, and Daehwi can't seem to stop embarrassing himself.(And underneath it all is blood, sweat, tears and dancing blending together into moments that people hold onto together, because it's the only thing they can do)





	1. Part A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So on my poll this was what most of the people voted for (six people yay yay) And I didn't know what else to do so I just decided since I'd finally fully finished Daehwi's part to publish this. (There's more than just this for Daehwi but that's chapter two) In all I literally have no idea where this is going just a few ideas and basic stuff. That means I will be open to ideas though I'll only use like a fourth of them.  
> I'll let you guys read now~

Part A  
_Daehwi_

“Here’s your uniform honey.” Daehwi turned away from surveying his new room to see his mother in the doorway, holding out a set of clothes. Khaki pants, dark blue blazer, crisp white shirt, golden name tag with _Lee Daehwi_ written in traditional hangul. He took it from her, laying it out on the bed and dipping his head in thanks.

She paused for a moment as she was leaving. “If there’s anything you need, please come and tell me.” She finally whispered, hugging him. Loose strands of her hair brushed Daehwi’s face and he swallowed, holding back tears. It would be easy to cry and have her hug him forever, but he knew she was suffering more than he was. She needed time alone to cry and miss him.

When his father had died, a brutal accident that left no room for surviving, neither of them had been able to bear living in the States any longer. Korea, being where Daehwi had spent the first couple years of his life and his mother’s home country, was an open and available option. The move had been completed in less than a month, and now, two months after his father’s death, here they were.

After she had gone, Daehwi unzipped his suitcase and went about with unpacking. The furniture had arrived ahead of them, so he set out his supplies on his desk and books on the shelves and clothes in the dresser. Neat and organized, just like at home, but so very different. The layout of his room was as close as it could be to how it had been back home, everything the same down to the color of the walls, but it was strange.

He sat down at his desk when he was done, staring out at the house next to them. There was a window right across from his and as Daehwi stared at it forlornly, the light flipped on. Curious, he sat forward and peered anxiously at it. Through the completely see through window he saw a door slam shut and then a teenage boy came into view, pulling off his shirt and tossing it onto the bed.

Daehwi should have stopped staring right then, he knew that, but for some reason he stayed at his desk. The boy was about his age, handsome of course, with lilac blonde hair and a slim figure. Daehwi leaned a little closer, but at that moment the boy turned around and noticed him staring at him. Falling off of his chair in his haste to disappear, Daehwi crawled under his desk and curled up into a ball, cheeks turning a very bright red. 

After waiting fifteen minutes, which was as much as he could take as his legs were cramping, he crawled back out and cautiously peeked his head over his desk. The boy had pulled the blinds down, completely cutting Daehwi off from seeing even the tiniest bit of light. In a way he was glad, as his cheeks were still red against his pale skin tone, but he also wished that he could have stared a little bit longer.

There was a knock on his door. “Daehwi?” His mother poked her head into his room and Daehwi quickly scrambled into a his seat and pretended to be doing work. She looked at him in puzzlement. “It’s time to eat.” Daehwi nodded, standing up and walking past her as quickly as was possible so she didn’t have time to look at him and notice that his cheeks were red as a tomato.

Dinner was a quiet affair, jajangmyeon ordered from a fast food place. The noodles were slightly cold and the paste congealing, but it was still good. His mother asked him a couple questions, how he was settling in, what he thought about Korea so far, was he excited for school tomorrow. He was settling in fine, Korea was beautiful and the food was delicious, sure he was excited but nervous too of course. Stereotype answers, but still answers and that made his mother happy. 

He excused himself when he was finished, loading his dishes into the dishwasher and sprinting up the stairs. In his room he changed into his pajamas; soft drawstring pants with little stars on them and a large purple t-shirt. Sitting down cross legged at his desk, Daehwi pulled out his music notebook, flipping past pages of music notes and lyrics scribbled between the lines to his newest composition. 

Adding a couple new notes, Daehwi tried to lose himself in the non existent music, trying to find the flow and rhythm. He was distracted by the window across the way, light seeping out from under the blinds. He tapped his pencil absentmindedly on his notebook, furrowing his brow in thought. Across from him the light seemed to blur and a moment later he realized it was because it had been opened and a piece of paper with thick black characters had been taped to it.

Narrowing his eyes, Daehwi managed to make out that it said **Stop staring at me**. Weird. Daehwi turned back to tapping his pencil before freezing as realization spread over him. “Oh my _gosh_.” He whispered to himself, biting his lip and mentally screaming. “Oh my gosh Lee Daehwi you idiot.” He said, slamming his notebook into his forehead and wincing at the sharp pain of the metal rings.

He’d been caught staring again. Again. It hadn’t even been two hours. Even though Daehwi really wanted to hide under the covers and not come out for a decade, _at the least_ , he felt obliged to write **I’m sorry** and tape it to his own window. Then he pulled the curtains shut, closed up all his books, and hide under his desk for a while mentally berating himself.

Not waiting to see if his note had been seen, Daehwi crawled into his bed and pulled the covers over his head and tried to forget how much of an idiot he was.

~

The next morning his mother woke him up at six thirty, telling him that school started in an hour and a half and that he had to be at the bus stop in an hour. Daehwi couldn’t believe she was making him take the bus to school, and though it wasn’t an official bus like in the U.S., the school being only one stop, he didn’t want to have to sit by himself for half an hour. 

Stumbling out of bed, he managed to dress himself in the uniform. He was sure if he looked in the mirror his silvery blonde hair would be a rats nest. Sleep had evaded him the previous night, whenever Daehwi had even tried to go to sleep the thought of the boy next door knowing he had been staring kept him up. When sleep had finally come in the early morning, he’d had a dream, more like nightmare, where he was in an airplane headed to Korea and the boy had sat next to him and then pushed him out the window when he’d stared a little bit too much. 

It was when Daehwi was eating breakfast that he realized that it was quite possible, in fact extremely likely, that the boy went to his school. After choking on his bagel, Daehwi mentally assured himself that his parents probably drove him to school. After all, they did sort of live in a rich neighborhood.

“Hurry honey, you might miss the bus.” His mother fretted, rushing to and fro as she threw supplies she’d magically produced into his backpack. “You need to check into the office when you get there to receive your schedule and locker, okay? I registered you already but do not forget to check in, it’s very important.”

“I won’t mom.” Daehwi said fondly, clearing his dishes and kissing her on the cheek as he grabbed his backpack. She smiled and patted his arm. “Be safe and come straight home, okay?” He nodded and ran out the door quickly. The bus stop was around the corner and he walked quickly, afraid he would miss it.

As he approached, Daehwi saw that there was already a group of people waiting there, in the same school uniform he was currently wearing. He walked forward more slowly, scanning the crowd for the boy next door. He didn’t spot him and Daehwi felt himself relax, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

He stepped into the stop, not sitting but standing next to the wall. Even if he had wanted to sit, someone was sprawled across practically all the seats, on his phone. He had dark blonde hair, maybe it had been a bright blond but was now a light golden brown. He had broad shoulders, very broad shoulders. Daehwi swallowed and edged away. 

Across from him was a boy with earbuds in and head lowered so that Daehwi could only see the fringe of dark red bangs. Instead of the blazer he had on a unzipped black jacket, the hood thrown up. Daehwi didn’t think that was allowed, but he didn’t point it out. He didn’t want to get in trouble before he’d even started the school day.

At the very end of the seats a boy was curled up, one earbud in, his hand moving across the lined page of a notebook as something Daehwi couldn’t quite make up took place. He was very skinny and seemed to be slumped, shoulders curled up protectively. Daehwi considered walking over and sitting down, making conversation, but the boy didn’t look open to conversation and he wasn’t sure there was room anyways.

Finally, on the curb, legs outstretched into the road, was a tall boy hunched over his phone. Daehwi felt out of place. He wondered if he should take his phone out and pretend to do something so that he didn’t look like a loser standing alone with nothing to do. He was about to when he felt someone approach. His skin tingled as he felt someone’s gaze on him, but Daehwi trained his gaze on the ground even when the boy stretched out on the seats looked up and said; “Oh hi Samuel.”

Out of the corner of his vision Daehwi saw the other nod in acknowledgement, blonde and lilac hair and a lean build. _It was him._ Daehwi pressed his lips together to not let out a scream of embarrassment and frustration as Samuel, which was a nice name that totally suited him, moved forward to step around him. Daehwi felt his ears and cheeks heat up and he ducked his head quickly and stared at the ground, hoping Samuel didn’t notice and didn’t recognize him in general.

It was only when a minute or two had passed that he dared to look up, only to find Samuel regarding him coolly. He had in blue earbuds, and wore the uniform effortlessly, blazer slung over his shoulder with his backpack. Daehwi let out an inaudible gasp and took a step backward, only to trip and do a wonderful impression of a windmill as he fell to the ground, using his hands to avoid ripping his new pants.

Lee Daehwi did not get flustered by boys, albeit very cute ones that looked really really good shirtless, and he certainly did not fall onto the ground at a mere glance. Though on the ground he had a very nice view of Samuel’s black converse high tops. He kind of wanted to roll into the street and get hit by a bus.

“Are you okay?!” A voice cried, Daehwi heard footsteps running over and then someone was helping him to his feet. A concerned face appeared inches from his, a boy about an inch taller than him with silky black hair and light brown skin. Daehwi nodded quickly and the boy, who was a year or two older than him, looked him up and down, searching for injuries. “Are you sure? That was quite a tumble you took.” 

“I’m fine, I’m just actually really clumsy.” Daehwi said hurriedly and it was only when confusion flitted across the boy’s face that he realized he’d said it all entirely in English. A stupid mistake. He bowed. “I’m fine.” He repeated, in Korean this time. The boy nodded after a second before turning and yelling; “Guanlin, get out of the road!” The tall boy on the curb jolted, standing up and moving backwards.

“Sorry Jonghyun hyung.” He said sheepishly and the boy, Jonghyun, smacked him on the head lightly. “You’ll get run over if you do that.” Guanlin smiled. “I know.” He put his earbuds back in and moved to stand just outside of the bus stop cube. Jonghyun sighed. “Kids.” Daehwi wanted to ask him how old he was, but he felt that it would be impolite to do so, even though Jonghyun was in the same uniform as him.

“So, I’m assuming you’re part of the family that bought the No’s house?” Jonghyun turned to Daehwi with a friendly smile. Daehwi, caught off guard, fished for words desperately. “Um, that would be me. It’s just my mom and me actually.” He managed, hyper aware of how flustered he sounded and most definitely looked.

“I’m Kim Jonghyun. I live a street over.” He held a hand out. Daehwi shook it. “Lee Daehwi.” Jonghyun gestured for the others to pay attention. “That’s Kang Daniel.” The dark blonde raised his hand in a half wave before turning back to his game, concentrating. “Bae Jinyoung.” The skinny boy jerked, pencil skittering across the page. He glanced up, surprised, then lowered his gaze. “Park Woojin.” No response from the red haired boy. “Lai Guanlin. He’s from Taipei.” The tall boy made a noise of acknowledgement, throwing up a peace sign. “And that’s Kim Samuel. He’s from the States also.” Samuel gazed at Daehwi coldly. Daehwi internally winced. There seemed to be no way that Samuel would even consider forgetting that Daehwi had stared at him shirtless. How embarrassing.

There was the release of brakes as the bus pulled up to a stop in front of the stop. Guanlin stumbled back a little bit, shook himself, and got on first. Daehwi hurried to board, not wanting to get stuck behind Samuel or something. He flashed his student ID, which got him free rides around town, and took a seat by the window near the front.

Normally he would have listened to music, but his earbuds were at home, which was super annoying and such an amateur mistake. He never should have pulled them out from his phone. Now he couldn’t listen to anything or pretend to ignore or not hear people because his music was too loud the entire day.

Out of the corner of his eye Daehwi saw Samuel sit down diagonally from him. He screamed internally again, biting his lip. _Avoid eye contact avoid eye contact avoid eye contact._ He clenched his hands together, then had to muffle his yelp as pain shot through him. Looking down, Daehwi saw that scrapes were running down his palms. When he’d fallen he must have hurt them. He didn’t know he hadn’t noticed that. _Oh right, Samuel was a bit distracting._

When he got to school he’d find some bandaids. Thankfully his hands weren’t bleeding, but they hurt like heck and they might get infected if he didn’t treat them soon. 

“Here.” A voice whispered and Daehwi saw a hand appear in front of his face, holding a tube of ointment and a couple of bandaids. He turned his head to see the silent boy from the bus stop corner, Bae Jinyoung Jonghyun had said, holding them out to him unblinkingly.

“Oh…” The words died in Daehwi’s throat. “Thanks.” He took the ointment and bandaids, only for the bus to lurch and for him drop it all over the ground. “Crud.” He said, kneeling and searching for it. He managed to find the bandages, but the ointment seemed to have disappear. Jinyoung stared at him, probably wondering how Daehwi could be so awkward and idiotic.

“You dropped this.” Daehwi stopped peering under the seats, aware of how weird it must look to everyone else on the bus. Samuel was leaning across the empty seat beside him, ointment tube in his hand. _Why did it have to be him????_ Daehwi took it, smiling sheepishly.

“Oh my gosh, thanks so much, like my hands probably would have died if you hadn’t found it I don’t even know how I would have survived!” Daehwi exclaimed, cringing at the word vomit spewing from his mouth. Then, to make matters worse, he reached out and patted Samuel on the shoulder. “Thanks!” Samuel leaned away from him and shook his head slowly, turning up the volume.

Daehwi smiled one more time and made sure Samuel was looking out the window before slapping himself on the forehead. He was stupid. When he conversed with other boys and girls he didn’t spew a super long run on sentence and make things totally awkward and Samuel now thought he was doubly weird. Great. Just great.

Remembering the tube in his hand, Daehwi uncapped it and squeezed some on each of his hands. Rubbing his hands together, he held his breath to not let out a small whine of the amount of pain it was causing. At least he got most of the gravel out. Next he put the bandages on, there were a lot of them and when he was finished his hands looked like a child had attacked them with bandages, but it had stopped hurting so it was okay. Mostly. He was sure he could hold a pencil if he really tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea when I'll be updating this next, but hopefully in two weeks or earlier. Leave comments and kudos to feed my inspiration! :P


	2. (Daehwi)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup I'm back after a week....Wow no comments and not a lot of kudos or hits but 12 subscriptions already so that's good!!!!   
> This is a continuation of Daehwi's part~

The bus pulled up in front of the school half an hour later. Daehwi stood up before it had even stopped, anxious to run away from the embarrassment from the morning and the previous night. It might seem a little too optimistic that it wouldn’t happen again, but there was a chance that he wouldn’t be in the same class as Samuel.

He merged with the streams of students entering through the gates, making it all the way into the building before realizing that he didn’t know where the office was. And he needed to go to the office to get his schedule and things. Daehwi turned slowly in a circle, searching for a sign that screamed ‘Office!’ but he had never been especially good at reading Hangul and well, he couldn’t really make out the signs. 

Daehwi sighed. Verbal conversation it was. Hopefully there was no more word vomit. Maybe it was a Samuel-induced disease. He tapped the shoulder of a student passing by. “Can you tell me where the office is?” The boy turned around, glaring at him. He had a very pretty complexion, eye makeup that looked natural, and light brown hair dusting his eyes. Back in America boys had hardly been this good looking. Girls, too. 

“Why do you want to know?” He asked smoothly, tilting his head. Daehwi stared at him, open mouthed and fumbling for words. Fumbling for words was better than not being able to stop them at least. 

“I’ve got it.” Someone called and Daehwi started, whipping around to see someone standing with his hands in his pocket a little ways away, looking bored. The pretty boy sneered, turning and stalking away. Daehwi’s rescuer, he supposed it was a rescue of   
sorts, crossed the space between them. “What were you thinking?” He asked. Daehwi frowned. The question seemed to be more important but the boy said it with a flat tone. He had earbuds in and was standing in a relaxed position, Daehwi’s height.

“Um…” Daehwi tried, unsure if ‘I needed to find out where the office was and since I couldn’t find it I decided to ask a student’ was the kind of thinking the boy was asking for. His rescuer sighed, pausing his music.

“That’s Park Jihoon, the school’s resident pretty boy. Stay away from him unless you want trouble.” He said, matter of factly. Daehwi nodded slowly, stunned. Trouble seemed to find him at every step of the way, something that couldn’t be helped but he wish could be. “Now, what did you want?” His rescuer continued. He looked like he wanted to leave the conversation.

“I was looking for the office….” Daehwi started, voice trailing off slowly as the boy pointed behind him at a large sign reading ‘Office’. “Oh. Thanks a lot.” He smiled warmly. The boy gave a short shake of his head, unpausing his music and striding away, muttering; “I don’t know why I bother.”

Daehwi hitched his backpack higher and crossed the tiles to the office, pushing the door open. Principal offices were so nice in Korea, chairs and a coffee table for when parents visited, flags and long windows. Principal Yoo, as her nametag said, sat in her chair, reading papers with her pen in hand. He cleared his throat. She looked up.

“You must be Lee Daehwi.” No hello, no smile, only a business like expression and tone. She picked up a sheaf of papers, clipped together. “Here’s your schedule and locker information as well as other forms that need to be filled out ASAP.” Daehwi nodded and took them from her, sticking them in his backpack except for his schedule and locker information.

“Mr. Oh will be here any second to take you to your homeroom.” Principal Yoo announced. “If you have trouble settling in or anything, you can come talk to me. The forms you can turn into Mr. Oh when they’re completed. Please have them filled out by Monday.” Daehwi nodded again.

“I’ll be sure to have them to you by then.” He felt strangely formal, wanting to stand straighter and clasp his hands and add a ‘ma’am’ onto the end of everything. America was so different from Korea. He was afraid he didn’t have a place in Korea. His father from America, his mother from Korea, him from somewhere in between. 

“Ah,” Principal Yoo said. “About your schooling in America.” Daehwi plastered a smile on his face. She smiled back, but it was a practiced smile from years of mastering it and perfecting. “I take it we won’t be having any problems here, will we?” She smiled, rep lipstick and painted red nails. Daehwi forced himself to nod and smile, though his fists were gripping the fabric of his pants.

“No, of course not.” He said softly. She nodded, just as a knock sounded at the door. A second later it opened and a man in his early thirties entered. He had a stern face, brown hair swept off his forehead, and smooth skin. Daehwi hoped that he was not the ‘Mr. Oh’ previously mentioned, just a random teacher who needed something from the teacher. He didn’t look very nice. 

“Right on time.” Principal Yoo smiled much more pleasantly than she had to Daehwi. “Mr. Oh, this is your new student.” She motioned to Daehwi. Mr. Oh turned, raising his eyebrows. “David?” Daehwi shook his head, gritting his teeth behind his smile. He hated being called David. “Lee Daehwi, David’s my English name.” After all, he was obviously going to go by his Korean name in Korea.

“Right.” Mr. Oh smiled but it was rather condescending. Daehwi made sure to smile back. In America teachers had loved him, well they had, but now he knew he could only expect untrustworthy looks and harsh words. When you had the kind of record he had somehow gotten, it happened like that.

“Then follow me, David.” He said. Daehwi sighed softly to himself. “I go by Daehwi, sir.” He remembered to add. “You’ll go by what I call you and I call you the name that you were called at your old school.” Daehwi nodded numbly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the name David, but it brought back memories of America. America, where his father had died and his life had crumbled in a few months. 

He followed Mr. Oh through the now empty hallways. As he passed classrooms, he heard either students chatting or teachers taking roll. Some things were universal he supposed. Mr. Oh slowed to a stop in front of classroom 3B. Daehwi swallowed. He was technically supposed to be in 2B, in America he would be a sophomore, but had skipped a grade making him in the third year, or a junior. A genius, that was what he had been called by the teachers. Less nice words from the students.

Mr. Oh pushed open the door. This room was quieter than the other classrooms, varying colors of earbuds and headphones seen throughout it. A group of girls was whispering quietly, considerably louder boys having some ‘rock paper scissors’ game. But there was almost none aimless chatter, pencils working. Mr. Oh grimaced as if he were about to go into battle. Daehwi didn’t see what was so bad about a quiet classroom. It was a welcoming change to him.

Daehwi scanned the heads quickly. He recognized everyone from the bus stop earlier, Park Jihoon who was sleeping, the boy who had helped him survive his first experience with the so called dangerous Park Jihoon, and several others. There were around five or so girls, all in a cluster talking. It was a small class, under twenty students. In America the classes had hit thirty and still tried to cram more.

“Class.” Mr. Oh said simply, without even raising his voice. Daehwi waited curiously to see what would happen. Surprisingly, the class all looked up, the girls turning back around and the guys sliding into their seats, though there were severals groans of disappointment. Daehwi shuffled his feet nervously as several sets of eyes fell on him, scrutinizing.

“Glad I have your undivided attention.” Mr. Oh said sarcastically. “Earbuds out, music stopped, headphones around your neck or in front of you. If I have to ask again they’re mine.” _Tough teacher._ Daehwi thought, glad he had left his earbuds at home but also afraid that a notification would come or someone would call him and he would be busted. That was something that would happen to him, given the number of embarrassing events that had already occurred.

“I mean it.” He said, warning clear in his tone. Daehwi saw Samuel reluctantly pull out his earbuds. He wondered what Samuel had been listening to. He wondered what it would be like to share an earbud with Samuel. _No, that’s creepily weird. Pull yourself together Lee Daehwi!_ He told himself mentally. “Now, we have a new student. Everyone, this is David and he just moved from the States.”

“My name is actually Lee Daehwi.” Daehwi corrected again, smiling through the rage. Mr. Oh gave him a look. “As I said, David might not be able to speak Korean well….” “I speak Korean perfectly.” Daehwi interrupted again. _And, also, it says Lee Daehwi on my nametag, does it not?_ Mr. Oh stopped talking. “David, I would appreciate if you did not interrupt me. If you do it again that’s a warning point. Three warning points equal detention.”

Daehwi looked down at his shoes. “Ah.” He managed, nodding his head. He felt like he was about to cry. Mr. Oh smiled. “Now, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?” Daehwi nodded. That he could do. Introductions were simple.

“My name is Lee Daehwi, I’m sixteen years old, and I’ve lived in Japan and the U.S., where I recently moved from.” He started, but was cut off from a groan from a male with an interesting shaped face, three moles on one side of them. They made a constellation if you connected them, Daehwi noticed.

“Another nerd? Really?” He whined. “I mean we already have two fifteen year olds, no offense Sam,” He gestured to Samuel and another kid who was abnormally tall and had on square glasses. “Don’t call me Sam.” Samuel said softly. So Samuel was fifteen? _He’s younger than me._ For some reason Daehwi found that strangely adorable. “Yeah yeah.” The male said. “And the transfer-” Guanlin from the bus stop who nearly had his legs ran over by a bus. “So seriously? Another genius?” He sounded completely annoyed. Daehwi’s resolve faltered.

“I’m not really a genius.” Daehwi insisted nervously. “Um, anyway, I hope you guys will take good care of me!” That was the customary Korean greeting when entering a new environment, it sounded a bit strange if you said that in America, but here it made perfect sense. There was a slow set of clapping after some prompting from Mr. Oh.

“David, go sit behind Samuel. If you have any questions, you can ask me privately after class.” Daehwi nodded, too mentally exhausted to even bother trying to correct him again. It wasn’t until his feet had carried him to the window row and he had taken a seat and stared at the back of Samuels’ lilac blond head that he realized _he was sitting behind Samuel._ Could life get any worse? Or better?

He hung his backpack on the side and got out his math workbook. He had sticky noted several of the pages in his workbooks he needed to do to be in sync with the class. Math was the easiest for him, well other than English which was an easy ace as he spoke it fluently. He flipped it open, taking in the long equations and word problems. _Fun._

Reaching forward, Daehwi pulled a pencil from his case. As he sat back down he caught a whiff of something, a mix of fall and fruit. That might sound like a weird combination, but Daehwi found it strangely enticing. He leaned a little bit closer, trying to see where the smell was coming from, only to discover that it was Samuel.

_Samuel smelled **really** good._ Like seriously seriously seriously good. Daehwi breathed in deeply, sighing happily in contentment. And Samuel turned around. And looked at him. 

Sometimes Daehwi really really really wanted to melt into a puddle. He instead opted for a friendly smile before attacking the first problem on the page aggressively. Samuel turned back around and Daehwi let out a breath of relief and focused on his math.   
Math was easy. He could solve problems like this in under a minute.

If only life were that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not promise that I will update next week because I need to write write write on this. But comment and leave kudos! I'm always interested in your thoughts.


	3. (Woojin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally get someone other than Daehwi's pov, since I need to start introducing like the six other ships I plan to include. This might seem like a short update, but I'm posting it in pov parts as to not cause confusion and it was Woojin's bday yesterday! Happy 18th~ The Wanna One teasers have me hyped and I just realized that like Daniel is a boxer in this and in that he's a boxer MIND BLOWN  
> Thank you for all the kind people who commented last time. I wrote a lot more this week, and planned ahead too, it just takes a while to actually finish a pov since they often get lengthy.

_Woojin_

“Yah,” Woojin slammed his hand against the wall beside Jinyoung, leaning in closer. Jinyoung flinched away, cowering. “Afraid, aren’t you?” He stepped back for a second, blowing out a breath of air. Jinyoung relaxed a bit out of the corner of his gaze. Woojin smirked to himself. “Well then, I guess you shouldn’t have said it. Shouldn’t you have?” Jinyoung blinked rapidly, shaking his head slowly.

Woojin yanked him forward, hitting him in the stomach. Jinyoung crumpled forward, breathing out harshly. Woojin grabbed his chin and forced it up. “You’re not going to answer?” He questioned sardonically. Jinyoung let out a whimper, shaking his head back and forth violently. Woojin laughed bitterly and let him go. Jinyoung fell to the ground and Woojin kicked him viciously. Jinyoung groaned and rolled over slowly, curling up. Woojin let the world tunnel, nothing but kicks and bruises.

Jinyoung stopped making noise after the first three and then Woojin lost count until he was stumbling backward, grabbing the wall for support. He looked down at Jinyoung, who had pulled himself into a sitting position, head tilted back, breathing heavily. Woojin glared down at him darkly. “Watch your mouth.” He snarled before storming off, leaving Jinyoung behind. 

His hands were in fists at his side and when Woojin looked down he thought he saw blood on them, but when he uncurled them and held them up to his face there was nothing. Drawing in a shaky breath he banged into the bathroom, heading toward the sink.  
Jihoon was standing in the corner, smoking out the open window. Woojin crinkled his nose in disgust. “Do you have to do that in here?” Jihoon grinned as Woojin turned on the water, letting it flow over his hands though it burned. “Nowhere else to.” “Go outside.” Woojin suggested icily.

Jihoon whistled slowly, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a bottle. He popped the cap and tapped out a multi colored pill. He held it out to Woojin. “Want one?” Woojin nodded, turning off the water and tossing it into his mouth before drying his hands. The change was immediate, a tranquil calm spreading through his body. The world momentarily blurred and then sharpened at the edges. Woojin balled up the now damp paper towel and threw it into the trash can. 

The first time he had taken KoKo Bop it had been overwhelming, a dizzying effect. Woojin had thrown it up later, stomach unable to settle. Now he was so used to the effects that taking KoKo Bop was like taking Advil. He took a lot of Advil too, to counter the headaches he got after taking pills.

Smoke floated through the air, Jihoon exhaling boldly in Woojin’s direction. Woojin waved it away. He didn’t like smoking, having tried it several times before, the smoke burning his throat and eyes and the ash gritty on his fingertips. “You’re going to ruin your lungs.” Woojin snapped at Jihoon.

Jihoon took another long drag. “My lungs are already ruined. By this point in my short seventeen years I’m practically a pyromaniac.” Woojin snorted. It was true that Jihoon was known to play with fire, whether it be cigarettes or tire tracks. Jihoon cracked open one of his eyes. “What.”

“Nothing.” Woojin shook his head slightly. Jihoon paced over to him, pulling him in close by the lapel of his jacket. He smiled teasingly. “Kiss me?” He whispered seductively, breath tickling Woojin’s ear. Woojin leaned away, coughing. “You’ll taste like smoke.” He said accusingly. Jihoon exhaled into his face. “Yeah, but you’ll still do it.”

Woojin obliged, leaning in and capturing Jihoon’s lips. Jihoon deepened the kiss, falling back against the sink. Woojin let his sense of reality fade away slowly until he finally pulled away, trying to hide what he was sure was written on his face. Loving Jihoon was hungry and gasping for air, dragging each other down and fighting for scraps. They were two lost people clinging to each other on the edge of a black hole, loving to forget and forgive, teetering on the edge with their arms spread out like wings.

Jihoon’s lips were swollen, appearance definitely more messy than it had been before. Woojin straightened his zip up hoodie. Jihoon laughed, popping another pill into his mouth and swallowing it dry. His eyes were red rimmed. He waved lazily at Woojin. “See you, Park.” He said. Woojin’s lips thinned into a line. “Bye, pretty boy.” He murmured, turning and stalking out the door.

His hands had curled into fists again and Woojin shoved them into his pockets, lowering his head and controlling his breathing. He could feel the anger roaring inside of him, pushing to be let out. Being around Jihoon was poison, kissing Jihoon killed him, taking his stupid pills and inhaling his deathly smoke-it was eating him up. 

Woojin passed by Jinyoung, who was still sitting against the wall looking off into space blankly. He glanced upwards as Woojin passed. “You’re hands are shaking.” Jinyoung observed in a small voice and Woojin snarled, kicking him firmly. “Haven’t I taught you to watch your mouth?!” He yelled, voice rising. Jinyoung smiled, just the tiniest bit, and that was the part Woojin didn’t understand. Jinyoung asked for it, but when it happened he was afraid, and then he begged for it again.

He straightened his shoulders and strode forward, reaching the mouth of the hallway. As he turned he saw Hyungseop at the edge of the hallway, staring at him curiously. He had his earbuds in as he usually did, skin pale against his black hair, shirt unbuttoned over his undershirt. He tilted his head, studying Woojin as if he was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. Woojin glared at him, turning and stalking down the hallway in the opposite direction.

He didn’t really care what Ahn Hyungseop thought anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short part, but it ends part a and next friday I'll start on part b. Yes, some angst has appeared. We will get more cute Samhwi soon, but first we need some other ships (I won't say which one is introduced next, you'll have to wait until next Friday~) And also, to promote myself, go check out Never Ever, my GOT7 fic, and my JBJ texting fanfiction, both of which I will be updating tomorrow.  
> Thanks for reading~


	4. Part B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is totally off topic but if you've seen Wanna One go s2 ep1 you know when Daehwi starts crying? Because that just kills my heart, that poor child TT^TT  
> Anyway, Ongniel is set to sail but they're probably going to crash the boat before it does (in my story irl Ongniel is science even CJENM knows it)

Part B  
 _Daniel_

Daniel was trying to sleep, even though his music was up much too loudly, in order to block out the noise of his classmates. It didn’t really work, trying to sleep or trying to block out the noise. Instead all of it was giving him a pounding headache. His classmates voices were overly loud, too loud for an inside classroom. 

“So, how do you get all the girls, Seongwoo? I need some help.” He heard Jaehwan say. Daniel groaned to himself. He didn’t want to hear Seongwoo brag about all the girls he’d head a relationship with, who was the best kisser, all that stuff that half the class probably couldn’t care less about.

Seongwoo was saying something but Daniel had tuned him out until he heard Jaehwan ask; “Who’s your most recent ‘catch’?” He could hear the smile behind Jaehwan’s words, that psychopathic smile that had earned him the reputation of being a mix of insane and stupid. Seongwoo laughed. “Well, you know Kang Hyejin?” Daniel took his phone and paused his music, leaving his earbuds in but listening attentively. 

“No way!” Jaehwan yelped excitedly, but then lowered his voice to lean in a say; “Daniel’s sister?!” He felt several sets of eyes land on his back. There was the clink of metal as Seongwoo put his feet up, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah.” There was a beat of silence and then Seongwoo said; “Don’t worry, he can’t hear us. Hyejin said that he always has his music up way too loud.” Jaehwan laughed, but they were both quieter after that.

“So….?” Jaehwan said, somewhat conspiratorially. Daniel could practically see the grin on Seongwoo’s face as he answered, though he was facing in the opposite direction. “Well, it was really simple. She’s younger than us by like a year, naive and innocent.” He smirked, then his vice dropped an octave to say; “Just how I like them.” Jaehwan made a sort of shocked sound before laughing nervously. His eyes flicked over to Daniel again. Daniel made sure to keep still, pretending to be sleeping.

“We went out of course, then back to my place.” His voice dropped even lower, but as his usual voice was above normal it wasn’t low enough that Daniel still couldn’t hear every word he said. “And you know.” A shrug, a smile, Jaehwan leaning in closer begging for details. “She was quite...unsure about the whole thing.” Seongwoo continued, pretending to be reluctant to share the details. Like he cared what his conquests ever thought. “It was easy, of course. You know that….”

Daniel barely registered what he said next before he was shooting out of his chair and leaping onto Seongwoo, knocking him backward. His fist connected with Seongwoo’s face, years of boxing finally worth something other than a trophy and a scholarship. Not that getting into a fight meant something, or something good at least. 

Jaehwan was yelling and flapping around like a chicken, their other classmates shooting to their feet. “You wanna say that again?!” Daniel screamed, hitting him again. Seongwoo strained underneath him, blood smearing across his face. “HUH??!!” He screamed again, trying to get in control of his breathing and the rage flaring up in short bursts inside of him.

Seongwoo kicked him backward viciously, taking the advantage and scrambling to his feet. Daniel hissed sharply, rising as soon as he hit the ground. Seongwoo had grabbed a chair and was holding it in front of him, a measly sort of protection. Daniel clenched his fists, charging forward and leaping at Seongwoo only for Seongwoo to swing the chair with a terrified expression on his face.

A sharp pain pierced the side of his head and Daniel groaned, hearing several screams as the floor rushed up to meet his face.

~

When he finally came to, head feeling like it had been split open, he was in the nurse's’ office, on a bed with the covers pulled up to his chin. Groaning he tried to sit up only to find Ong Seongwoo inches from his face, peering down at him anxiously. Daniel let out a yelp and fell backwards, wincing in barely controlled pain when his head hit the pillow roughly. 

“Are you okay?” Seongwoo asked. “I don’t want to have to pay your hospital bills…” He murmured under his breath, mostly to himself, but Daniel caught it anyways. He glared. Seongwoo sat back. “Well you seem fine.” He held out a slip of paper. “We have detention tomorrow in the gym after school.” 

Daniel took the paper and threw it onto the ground. “Why should I be punished for what you did?! I have a match after school tomorrow, I can’t do detention!” Seongwoo blinked at him boredly. “Do whatever you want. You’ll just get more detention.” He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. Daniel growled low in his throat. Seongwoo looked a bit put off.

He shrugged. “Whatever. Just be there.” He turned and left, flinging the curtain aside with much more pressure than necessary. Daniel hissed, dropping his head into his hands. Stupid Ong Seongwoo, injuring him and then acting like it was his fault. Stupid Ong Seongwoo, landing him detention when he had a match! 

He pulled out his phone, sighing. Scrolling through his contacts, Daniel clicked on the one that said ‘Coach’. His coach picked up on the first ring. “What, kid?” Daniel sighed quietly to himself, bracing himself for the inevitable. “I can’t make it to the match tomorrow.” He announced casually, leaning back on his elbows. There was a string of loud cursing before Coach managed to spit out; “What.”

“I have detention and I can’t blow it off without it going on my record and messing it up.” Daniel explained. He was aware that he was using his business tone, the one he used to get out of messes, to act like an adult even when he wasn’t. “Daniel...this is a big match. You can’t just blow it off.” Coach said after a moment of silence. The warning was clear in his voice.

Daniel smiled. “I just did.” He hung up, sliding the phone into the pocket of his jacket and standing up. The room spun and he grabbed the table to steady himself, waiting until it had stopped before walking out of the resting area.

The nurse had left for the day and Daniel simply strolled out the doors, taking the steps two at a time and catching the bus just as it was leaving. He took a seat next to Samuel who had his earbuds in as always. He didn’t even look up as Daniel took a seat, though Daniel was sure part of that was because he could see him in the reflection of the window.

Daniel took out his own phone, which was slowly dying. He turned it on, ignoring the slew of missed phone calls and text messages from Coach in favor of turning on his music and cranking the volume all the way up until the rest of the world couldn’t pierce his bubble. He barely noticed when it was his stop, Samuel getting up the only thing that alerted him to the fact.

He got up and followed Samuel off the bus, starting off in the opposite direction from him. When he reached his house, a tall building with a wild yard that was forever changing, he was exhausted and his head was spinning even more.  
Hyejin was sitting at the table doing her homework when he opened the door. Her head shot up, a smile spreading across her face as she spotted him. “Daniel-” She started, standing up, but Daniel cut her off.

“Ong Seongwoo.” Hyejin froze and then her face slowly crumpled. Daniel turned to face her, staring at her in disappointment. “Of all the people you had to choose from, you chose Ong Seongwoo.” He was aware of how heavy his voice sounded, tired. His head hurt and he wanted to lie down again and close his eyes and let the darkness come.

Hyejin bit her lip and looked down at the ground. “He was nice.” She whispered, staring at her hands. Danie could see the top of her light brown head, hair pulled back into a ponytail. It was almost the same shade as his own, which had been dyed blonde and was now fading. He should probably re dye it son.

“I heard you got hit in the head and had to go to the nurses’.” Hyejin said, lifting her head. She looked worried, eyes large and doe like. “Yeah. I got bashed in the head with a chair by your darling Ong Seongwoo.” Daniel was rather tired of having to say stupid Ong Seongwoo’s name all the time. Hyejin’s eyes widened. “Is he okay?!”

Daniel just looked at her, partly in disbelief. The light died in Hyejin’s eyes as she realized what she had just said. “Well I’m sure he’s fine, as he wasn’t the one who got hit in the head with a chair and all.” “I didn’t mean it like that.” Hyejin said worriedly, leaning forward desperately. Daniel scoffed. “He was talking about you, you know.” Hyejin frowned, sitting back. She didn’t say it aloud but Daniel knew what she was thinking. _What was he saying?_

“It would be helpful if you weren’t throwing yourself all the place.” Daniel added. Hyejin stumbled backward, looking crestfallen. “You create the image people see of you and right now it’s not a very good one.” Daniel snapped. He knew part of this beast was having gotten a concussion, but the other part at vicious anger. Hyejin was fifteen and still young, innocent. The same age as Samuel, though two grades below them both. Same ages, so different. Daniel wasn’t going to let his little sister even touch the life he was living in.

“Nevermind. I’m just tired. Mom’s not coming back tonight, so make sure you get dinner.” Daniel said, combing his fingers through his hair and turning to trudge back to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it starts...I did get some writing in but it is going a lot slower, so just abide with me if I complain about my tough writing life.  
> Comment and kudos!


	5. (Daehwi)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice long(er) update and Samhwi! I have Daniel's part at the end because I couldn't fit it into the end.

_Daehwi_

When Daehwi got home from school, a smooth bus ride because Samuel had stayed after for something, his mother was waiting inside. There was a plate of cookies on the counter next to her and Daehwi happily skipped for, snagging one and stuffing it into his mouth. They were still slightly warm and gooey, having been taken out of the oven not long ago.

His mother smiled down at him, ruffling his hair. Daehwi had yet to be as tall as her, she had been a model and he had inherited ‘short genes’ from his father. Another inch or two and he would match her height. If he ever grew more, anyways. “How was your first day of school?” She asked, taking a cookie for herself and eating it.

Daehwi swallowed, wiping his hands on a napkin provided. He thought back on it. Mr. Oh and his way of calling him David, embarrassing himself repeatedly, scraping his hands up, smelling Samuel-the smell of woodsmoke and caramel apples Daehwi had finally figured out after thinking on it for a long time. 

“It was a lot of fun actually. There were a bunch of kids at my bus stop.” Daehwi remarked. His mother brightened. “Do you think you’ll become friends with any of them?” Daehwi tore off half of another cookie and chewed it to stall while he thought of an answer that wasn’t exactly a lie but was far enough from the truth that it would please his mother.

“Oh, I think in time yes. My class is small and most of them are in it so we’ll have to interact at some point.” Daehwi replied, hoping it sounded smart enough to be a good answer. His mother nodded. There was silence for a moment before his mother straightened and said; “Ah! On that topic, we’ve been invited to dinner next door.”

His vision tunneled and it took all his willpower not to drop the other half of the cookie he was holding. “They have a son your age, you know. You’ve probably already seen him, Samuel I think?” _Oh please no. Why did this have to happen to me? What did I do wrong?!_ All hopes that she had meant the house on the other side of them whooshed from Daehwi’s body.

He nodded. “Oh yeah I think I saw him. He might be in my class.” _Totally didn’t spend the whole class looking at him and trying not to creepily smell him like earlier…._ His mother smiled warmly. “That’s good.” She eyed him. “Make sure to change into something nice and be ready to go by six. Do you have any homework?”

“Just some catch up work to do.” Daehwi said, hefting his backpack higher on his shoulders. “I’ll go up and do it now.” _And stare at Samuel’s window waiting for him to come back._ He didn’t exactly plan on doing that, but it was an added benefit. Hopefully another shirtless fiasco wouldn’t happen. 

“Okay honey.” His mother drew him into a hug. “I’ll see you in a bit, I have a meeting about a job!” Daehwi smiled at her enthusiasm. “Hwaiting!” He cried, pumping his fist. She laughed and repeated the gesture. Daehwi waved good bye to her and then ran up the stairs, nearly slipping in his socks, but making it to the top in one piece.

As he entered his room he heard her car engine start and peeked out the window to see it pull out of the driveway. He waved again, though he knew she couldn’t see him. When her car had disappeared around the corner, Daehwi took a seat at his desk and unzipped his backpack. He took out the stack of workbooks it contained, lining them up at the front of his desk with the spines facing him. He had finished math in class and the English had been a breeze he’d done on the bus...Daehwi tapped his pencil and frowned, trying to figure out which of the other ones he should tackle first.

Finally he selected his science workbook, having the most pages to complete in it. Forty two in total, actually. Daehwi closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. He didn’t like science, it was his worst subject, and here it would be especially hard as it was an academic focused school. According to the statistics his mother had found online, 82% of their students had gotten into Seoul National University, 11% had gotten into Yonsei University, and the other 7% Korea University.

Daehwi had wanted to go to the School of Performing Arts but it was expensive and too far away and Daehwi wasn’t going to ask that of his mom. He would make her proud by getting into one of the three universities mentioned and being a top professor or scientist or something good that would get him recognized and make him able to provide for her.

On the corner of his desk was a picture of him in America, posing after a competition he had won first place in. He was sweaty, in ridiculous garb consisting of completely shredded skinny jeans, a long white jacket with pink glitter and sequins and such, and a black t-shirt with a skull on it. Whatever had possessed him to wear it, especially together, he hoped never possessed him again. His dad was in the picture too, an arm thrown around his shoulder, holding up bunny ears behind his head. _He never stopped doing that, even when I told him to._ Daehwi smiled sadly to himself.

Sighing, Daehwi flipped the picture down and picked up his pencil, settling into concentrating on the problem in front of him and the graph besides it. Only two hours until ultimate embarrassment.

~

Two hours later he was waiting downstairs holding a platter filled with the rest of the cookies his mother had made. Apparently they were a housewarming gift, though Daehwi was pretty sure housewarming gifts were supposed to be given to you when you moved by your neighbors, not to be given to your neighbors.

He had changed into a nicer outfit at his mother’s request; skinny jeans with no holes, a button up short sleeved white shirt, and his nice sneakers. His mother had attacked his hair with a wet comb, claiming it needed to be tamed. Personally Daehwi thought it looked fine, but his mother had said that since he had insisted on dying it ‘that weird gray color’, she should at least get to comb it. It was silver, actually. Not gray. But arguing that with his mother was like arguing over David and Daehwi with Mr. Oh.

“Kaja!” His mother cried and Daehwi started, fumbling to keep his grip on the platter. Blowing his bangs out of his eyes, Daehwi straightened and resituated the cookies so that he was less likely to almost drop them again. “We’re going to be late!” She added. Daehwi rolled his eyes when she turned away. The house was literally right next door. It wasn’t like they had to drive hours and hours.

Somehow they still ended up standing on the red brick pathway five after six, Daehwi standing awkwardly behind his mother holding the cookies. With every dong of the doorbell the feeling of dread in his stomach intensified. _If I make a run now, what are the chances of mom catching me and dragging me back/murdering me?_

Too late, the door opened. A short woman with a bright smile and curls tamed into a ponytail waved energetically at them. “You must be our new neighbors!” From behind her Daehwi spotted a blond head and his heart dropped down and disappeared through the ground. _Goodbye, normal life._

His mother nodded. “Yes, we’re the Lee’s. I’m Jihee and this is my son Daehwi.” Daehwi smiled as cutely as he could. The woman shot him a quick smile. “We’re the Arredondo’s, or the Kim’s depending on who you ask. I’m Chiyoung and this is my son Samuel.” She yanked Samuel forward and Daehwi’s eyes immediately hit the ground. _Don’t look up unless you want another bus stop fiasco_

“Oh, you brought cookies! You didn’t have to do that! Please, come inside. Dinner will be ready soon. Samuel, go set the table please.” Daehwi heard Samuel grumble out a response and then a yelp; “And take out your earbuds! We’re being polite tonight.” Daehwi resisted the urge to seual girlishy at Samuel’s face as he flattened his hair, which had looked _Adorable_ ruffled.

Daehwi followed Mrs. Kim through the house to the kitchen, trying not to fall over dead from the delicious aromas wafting from the oven. He set the cookies on the table, turned around, and side skirted Samuel narrowly. He swore he saw Samuel roll his eyes as he walked past Daehwi, a stack of plates in his hands.

He stood next to the mothers awkwardly as Samuel set the table and Mrs. Kim finished dinner. After fifteen minutes of listening to discussion about something or whatever, he hadn’t been paying much attention, Mrs. Kim announced that dinner was ready. Daehwi took the seat next to his mother, across from Samuel and Mrs. Kim. Of course, it wasn’t ideal that he was seated directly across from Samuel, but at least it wasn’t right next to. How many embarrassing things could possible happen?

After a brief bowing of their heads, in which Daehwi awkwardly looked at his lap and tried not to look at Samuel, the food was passed around. It was a noodle stew, thick cut noodles and beef chunks with onions, tomatoes, and cooked carrots mixed in. Daehwi let his mother serve him, dipping his head and murmuring a thank you before picking up his chopsticks and digging in. 

He was starved, having barely touched his lunch at school, his stomach nauseous from all the eyes and whispering. Half of it was probably paranoia from having to deal with it his last year in America, but the other half really was people whispering and gossiping about him. Daehwi couldn’t hear what any of them were saying, unlike in America they were very careful that you didn’t know they were gossiping exactly so you couldn’t attack them.

“It’s very delicious.” Daehwi told Mrs. Kim earnestly as he paused for a sip of water. She smiled the way parents did when they saw their food disappearing. “Where did you all move from?” _At least she didn’t say ‘y’all’._ Daehwi thought silently as his mother responded; “The States. Before that we were in Japan for a couple years.”

“Sounds like you travel a lot.” Daehwi quietly slurped up more noodles as he followed the conversation, darting a glance over at Samuel. Samuel was eating with his head bent over his bowl, not looking up even for a second. Daehwi noticed that he stopped mid bite when Daehwi looked at him a little too long and Daehwi quickly turning away, cheeks burning. Maybe he wasn’t as tuned out as Daehwi thought. _Darn. That means I can’t stare at him like I was planning to if I got bored._

“My husband’s work required us to travel.” _Required. Not requires._ Daehwi noted, his heart panging. He wasn’t yet used to having to talk in past tense about his own father, as if he was only a thing of the past. No, it all felt too real if he did that. Even though he knew, he accepted it, that was one of the reasons he avoided the topic of his father’s death. He wanted to avoid having to say something in past tense and face the cold harsh reality straight in the face again.

“Oh, where is he working now?” Mrs. Kim asked, leaning forward interestingly. She meant well, she was a nice lady Daehwi was sure, but his grip tightened on his chopsticks. He saw his mother look down at her plate, hair swinging free from her ears. She was visibly stopping herself from crying again, hands clasped tightly under the table. Daehwi reached over silently and rubbed them, resting his hand on tops of hers.

She smiled at him and looked up, perfect face and image restored. “Ah, that’s the reason we moved back to Korea. My husband, you see, died in a car accident three months ago.” She swallowed, gulping down her glass of water. “My Daehwi too….I was so scared I would lose both of them.” She looked down, her hands now gripping Daehwi’s like they were her lifeline. “After all he had to go through at school, those awful children-” “Eomma!” Daehwi hissed as quietly as he could. She looked over at him. Daehwi widened his eyes and shook his head vehemently.

“Oh goodness, I apologize.” His mother looked up, wiping at her eyes delicately. She shook her hair out of her face, tucking it back behind her ears. Mrs. Kim was leaning back, hands clapped over her mouth. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t know, how insensitive I must have sounded.” Samuel had lifted his head and was looking at Daehwi, gaze pinning Daehwi to his seat.

“You know, Samuel’s father divorced me when he was at a young age. I know it’s not exactly the same thing of how painful that must have been, but it’s something I can relate to. If you ever need single mother tips, I’m happy to offer help.” Daehwi’s mind was a bit boggled. It was an unusual way to offer condolences, but people did different things. 

His mother had said something and now she and Mrs. Kim were in an animated discussion about Daehwi and Samuel. Daehwi didn’t particularly want to hear about ‘how cute he was as a child’ and Samuel was much more interesting. Daehwi could now stare at him and not seem creepy since they were technical acquaintances. He opened his mouth to say something, but Samuel ducked his head at the speed of light and shoveled a bite of food into his mouth.

Daehwi looked down at the dregs of his meal and opted to sip water and look cool until; “We’ll leave you boys to talk.” Mrs. Kim said and then she and his mother were standing off and disappearing off into some unknown part of the house before Daehwi could wail to not leave him there alone with Samuel.

An awkward silence fell, punctuated only by Samuel clinking his glass against the edge of his bowl accidentally when he picked it up to drink. Daehwi fiddled with his hands, tapping them against each other in a rhythmic pattern.

“I’m sorry about your dad.” Samuel murmured, words muffled by the rim of his cup. Daehwi’s head jerked up. His cheeks flushed by instinct. “Oh. Thanks.” He replied, words searingly loud in the silence. Samuel set his cup down. “Um, your mom…” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Said you got hurt too?” Daehwi felt his whole body freeze. _She could have let anything slip but it just had to be the topics I’m most sensitive about._

“A little. I was in the car too, but in the backseat so I avoided most of it.” Daehwi explained quickly, words blurring together as he stumbled over them, trying to get the sentence out of his mouth as quickly as possible. Already the sound of metal crunching, tires squealing, was echoing in his ears. His vision narrowed, the edges softening, and Daehwi shook his head to clear it. Black spots dotted it now and he could see Samuel looking at him strangely.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Daehwi asked, his words slurring a little. _This is bad. Get ahold of yourself._ Samuel raised one eyebrow. “Maybe because you’re acting like you’re drunk.” Hot embarrassment flooded through Daehwi. He sat back, struggling to talk coherently. “I…” Samuel huffed, standing up quickly. His chair hit the wall behind him and Daehwi winced at the loud noise, rubbing at his temples.

“Whatever. I’m out.” Samuel disappeared up the stairs, grabbing his phone and earbuds as he did. Daehwi looked down at his hands, a tear splashing down his cheek and landing on them. 

He was sitting like that when his mother and Mrs. Kim returned half an hour later. “Where did Samuel go?” Mrs. Kim asked, looking around in confusion. “The bathroom.” Daehwi responded, mentally cursing himself for lying to an adult. He didn’t know why he didn’t just say the truth, that Samuel had gone to his room and abandoned him. He had a feeling that it would get Samuel in trouble and he didn’t want Samuel to hate him. _You’re ridiculous, Lee Daehwi. He’s just a boy. A boy you don’t even know, who doesn’t even like you._ Daehwi resisted the urge to smack himself in the head, his own mind having an argument with himself. _Yet, there’s something enticing about him. He’s a genius and handsome and he hates me and I don’t want him to. I really don’t. I shouldn’t even care._  
“Daehwi?” His mother said again and Daehwi’s head snapped up. She was standing by the door, poised to exit. “We’re leaving. What do you say?” Daehwi rolled his eyes to himself. He was a little too old to keep being reminded of his manners. “Thank you for the meal Mrs. Kim.” He bowed as he stood, ducking his head and hurrying to stand besides his mother.

“It was nice having more mouths to feed than just two.” Mrs. Kim replied with a breezy wave. “I’m sure Samuel had a fun time too.” Daehwi sort of nodded, though he knew that Samuel hadn’t enjoyed his time at all. He waved goodbye before slipping out the door and walking ahead of his mother across the lawn to their house.

“Wait up!” His mother stumbled across the grass in her heels, tripping to a stop by the railing and grabbing it for support. “How did you like Samuel? You two seemed to really hit it off!” Daehwi shrugged. “I guess.” His mother glowed with pride. “He seems like such a nice boy.” Daehwi watched her unlock the door.

“Yeah. Really nice.”

 

_Daniel_

Seongwoo was twenty two minutes late for detention. Daniel was sitting on the raised stage, twirling the mops absently when he sauntered in, appearance ruffled. He hadn’t bothered to straighten his tie or button the top of his shirt. Daniel’s fist clenched involuntarily on the handle of the mop. He tried to calm himself. _As long as it’s not Hyejin, I don’t care._

“Were you waiting for me?” Seongwoo asked innocently, trailing his fingers down Daniel’s arm as he grabbed a mop. Daniel jerked his arm away as if his touch was fire. Seongwoo smirked. “All I’m doing is getting a mop. No need to get all turned on and flustered.” Daniel snapped at him angrily. “I am not-”

Seongwoo cut him off with a simple shrug. “Whatever you say.” Daniel hopped down from the stage and walked over to the opposite side of the gym. “You do that half and I’ll do this half.” Seongwoo shrugged and Daniel rolled his eyes, shoving in his earbuds and turning up the volume. He wasn’t interested in small talk with Seongwoo.

Letting the music take him away, Daniel methodically moved the mop back and forth across the squares until there was a loud bang an Seongwoo’s mop crashed down in front of him. Daniel leaped backward a couple steps and yanked out his earbuds, whipping around to face Seongwoo with a highly irritated expression on his face. 

“I have to go.” Seongwoo told him nonchalantly, straightening his tie slowly. He tilted his head, daring Daniel to say something. Daniel bit the bait. “You can’t just leave! We have over an hour left until our service is up.” Seongwoo sighed deeply, carefully buttoning up his shirt. Daniel couldn’t believe he’d let it hang open like that for the whole period of time they’d been cleaning the gym.

“Too bad for you, then. I have somewhere I need to be.” Seongwoo replied calmly. Daniel hissed. “I had somewhere I had to be too, but you don’t see me skipping out!” Seongwoo snorted. “That’s because you’re a goody two shoes.” “De?!” Daniel asked loudly.

Seongwoo sighed. “Have fun by yourself.” He smirked slightly before turning on his heel and banging out the gym door. Daniel let out a shriek of frustration, flinging his mop across the floor. It skittered across it, flipping violently before sliding to a stop. There was a crack running through it, enough that it would fracture when it was picked back up.

Daniel smiled to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...Idk when I'm updating again, probably the first week of December? (I think that's right...) Next weekend is Thanksgiving which I'm busy on and that also provides the perfect opportunity for me to write a lot (because I don't even have the next section done I've been slipping)  
> Also; almost to 1k hits and over 25 subscriber thanks guys!


	6. Part C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaand I'm back Hello. The parts weren't long enough to separate again, but I'm hoping to do it like this to feed you guys more. I think that this will be switching to updates every two weeks and I'm sorry to everyone, but I really am not writing enough and I have a lot of other projects to work on. Basically, it's either this or a hiatus and I don't want to go on hiatus, so I'm switching the weeks. I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience, but as I finish writing my JBJ story and my fic exchange hopefully that will free up more time to work on this. (My NaNoWriMo will be continuing into these months as the story isn't finished)  
> Sorry for the long note :)

_Seonho_

Seonho was waiting when his mother got home, dinner set out on the table recently reheated. It was getting late, past ten p.m. by now but he was used to late night meals. It had become a tradition after his father had been killed in an accident while trying to put out a fire. A hero, saving hundreds of people’s lives but losing his. Even now, as Seonho stared down at the food spread out in tupperware containers, he remembered waiting that very night as the food grew colder, staring at the phone until it finally rang. Except it wasn’t good news. 

“Sweetie, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” His mother unwound the scarf from around her neck and hung it on the coatrack. Seonho rose to his feet obediently, helping her out of her coat, taking her purse. “Eomma, you know I won’t let you eat alone.” She turned around and kissed his forehead, patting his hair lovingly. “Who raised you to be so chivalrous?” Seonho smiled at her, adjusting his glasses. He had long outgrown his mother but she still treated him like her baby. He didn’t mind.

“You and Appa.” He replied promptly, winning a smile as she moved to kneel in front of the table. “What do we have tonight?” She asked, surveying the food. Seonho ducked his head sheepishly. “Only bibimbap with freshly cooked beef. I had after school today so there wasn’t much time to throw something together.” He had learned to cook when he was eight, taught by both parents in their small kitchen. His hands had been covered in scars from knife and burn mishaps in the early days, but now he outshined his mother even in cooking.

“Ah, that reminds me.” Seonho looked up from where he was preparing to gulp down his egg. His mother set down her chopsticks and Seonho copied her, straightening by instinct. “I was wondering if you would be willing to tutor a student who needs some help in areas you’re especially talented in?” She was laying it on even though she didn’t need to, Seonho would do anything his mother asked. Besides, it didn’t hurt to be praised once in awhile.

Seonho considered the proposal, deciding it didn’t sound too bad. “Sure. Who’s the student?” He asked at second thought. His mother wiped her mouth daintily. “Lai Guanlin. I believe he’s in your class?” She said it was a question though Seonho knew that she knew he was in his class. Still, a part of him was glad his mother was being subjective.

He nodded quietly. That was fine. He could work with that. Still...it just had to be him? It just had to be Lai Guanlin? It wasn’t that he had a strictly personal and private connection with Lai Guanlin, it was just that-

_“You turned me in for smoking?” Guanlin asked incredulously. Seonho was tall but Guanlin was taller and he had Seonho cornered. Seonho hugged his books closer and gulped. “If someone else had done it you would have been expelled.” Guanlin sneered. “Stop acting like you care-”_

And. The one Seonho didn’t like to remember because he wasn’t planning on getting arrested and he didn’t want to relive it at all. But of course thinking of it seemed to awaken the hidden corners of his brain where he had locked the memories away, spilling forth.

_“Yah, yah, yah, Seonho or whatever your name is.” A hand was shaking him. The snow was cold and white-no it was red-no it was white-No. The world was just blurry. The smell of burning rubber and smoke filled the air. Seonho felt dizzy when he tried to turn his head._  
“Seonho?” His mother touched his cheek, her cold fingers bringing Seonho back to the present. She smiled at him, lips red from the lipstick she put on every single day. “As I was saying, it would be mostly in Korean in general as that is the main problem. He speaks English fine, but he’s struggling in language arts and science. Do you think you could manage that? He’ll be in danger of failing and having to repeat and since he can’t exactly afford a real tutor, I said that you would do it for free.”

Of course that was fine, though a little stinging. He knew he could get money from his mom if he just asked, and not earning money was humbling, but a little extra would help. After all, he was going to be tutoring someone who Seonho wasn’t exactly his favorite student, for who knew how long. 

“I’m really tired, I’m going to retire.” His mother stood slowly, as if her joints ached, and Seonho rose too. “It’s fine. I’ll do the dishes, you go rest. Being principal is tough.” She laughed as she padded down the hallway. “I’m sure being a student is harder.” Seonho personally agreed, but he was trying to be a good person.

“Thanks honey. Really, thank you.” Seonho nodded and waited until her door closed before slowly standing up and clearing the dishes.

 

His first tutoring session with Guanlin was in the school library in the study hall period for lack of a better time. Seonho sat down, opened his glasses case and slipped them on, stacked his books and opened them in front of him, then waited with his hands folded. He had come early to get set up, even though it had taken thirty seconds tops, and at the ring of one o’clock the door opened and Guanlin walked in. He was sucking on a lollipop, at first seeing the white end gave Seonho a fright as he thought it was a cigarette again.

“You’re on time.” Seonho said promptly as he sat down. Guanlin nodded. He laid out his own workbooks, placing the Korean practice one directly in front of himself. Seonho pulled it over to him and flipped through it, seeing what Guanlin had done so far. “You haven’t done hardly anything.”

Guanlin shrugged. “Of course.” He said nonchalantly. Seonho sighed. _I have my work cut out for me._ He took out his binder, in which he had collected a series of notes to work on Guanlin with. It had taken him the better part of the night, but sleep wasn’t top priority. Studying was, as a high school genius he knew that most of all. 

“I was thinking that we could start with a basic review of the Korean alphabet and simple words, formal and informal. It might seem a small thing,” Seonho said at seeing Guanlin’s easy expression fade. “But it is the base of getting better at Korean in general. I have prepared a set of flashcards to go over the alphabet so I can see what needs to be reviewed the most.” He slipped out a stack of index cards, rubber banded in the middle.

Guanlin stared. “That’s a lot.” Seonho nodded silently. “How long is this session even?” Guanlin’s voice had taken on a whiny tone, which Seonho very much did not appreciate. “It’s an hour, and I suggest you get a attitude adjustment unless you want me to slam a textbook onto your head, because I am doing this without getting paid because I’m a genuinely nice person and you could at least _appreciate_ that.” A part of him was cringing at the long run on sentence, the bad grammar, but Guanlin was only staring at him with open mouthed shock.

“Okay.” He mumbled. Seonho pulled off the rubber band, enjoying the sharp snapping sound it made. “That’s better.” he said pleasantly, only feeling a tad bit guilty that he seemed to have frightened the boy. The evil voice in him couldn’t help but whisper that Guanlin deserved it, a small payback for all the times Seonho had ran off terrified and shaking. Come to think of it, the Guanlin in front of him seemed to be unlike the one he was associated with in any way.

Seonho observed him carefully. It was definitely the same person, black hair, pale skin, gangly limbs, large eyes, thin lips, an almost white boy look about him. He was from Taipei after all, though Seonho really couldn’t see a resemblance to Twice’s Tzuyu.  
“Are we going to start?” To his credit, Seonho did not start or blush. Instead he pushed his glasses carefully up his nose and flipped over the first flash card. Guanlin blinked. “A.” He said. Seonho nodded, placing it facedown on the table and holding up the next one. He was careful not to bend the corners. “B/p.” Guanlin said. “Are we doing these in order or something?”

In response, Seonho held up the next one. Guanlin squinted, scooting closer. Seonho held himself perfectly still, afraid that if he allowed movement he would leap backwards. Their noses were inches away from each other’s, and even though Guanlin was looking at the card, Seonho felt like he was a pinned butterfly.

“M?” He finally said, sitting back. Seonho checked the back of the card, shaking his head. “This is silent.” Guanlin gave him a look of utter confusion. “Silent? We have a silent in the alphabet? What does that even mean?” Seonho felt a strong urge to smack himself on the face and scream at his mother for making him do this. 

Instead, Seonho laid it down and found the m card, placing them next to each other. “Firstly, the m is a square. Silent is a circle. If the silent symbol is at the _beginning_ of a sentence, that means it is not pronounced. If it is at the _end_ of a sentence, it means the word ends in a _ng_ sound, equivalent to the American sound.” Seonho had read the last part aloud, as he didn’t speak English (he could say hello, how are you, I am Seonho, good, bye, thank you, you’re welcome and that was about it) he didn’t know if it was true. But Guanlin seemed to understand, nodding. 

“I get it.” He said. Seonho smiled. “Do you? Because you’ll be having a 100 quiz on the Korean alphabet next Monday, which I will be personally be making myself.” He had already made it, and was working on a second one for future lessons.

Guanlin looked positively horrified

 

_Jonghyun_

 

It was dark by the time Jonghyun reached his last delivery. The chicken was probably cold by now, but whoever had ordered it could just reheat it. He ran up the steps two at a time, plastic bag banging against his legs, the handle chafing his fingers. Granted, a delivery job wasn’t the most ideal job, but for a high school student it was one of the few options he was able to do, and it paid somewhat well.

Jonghyun pressed the doorbell, tripping a bit, then quickly standing tall and preparing to hang over the chicken the moment the door opened. It opened a moment later, Jonghyun’s eyes widening upon recognition. Hwang Minhyun stood in front of him, one of Jonghyun’s classmates. He didn’t know Minhyun personally, but he had a reputation for being frosty and cute, a powerful politician’s son, rebellious and handsome.

“How much do I owe you?” Minhyun asked, not looking up, rummaging in his pocket for his wallet. Jonghyun replied, and only then did Minhyun look up, surprise flitting across his features. “Kim Jonghyun?” He inquired, leaning forward to peer at Jonghyun intently. Jonghyun blinked at him. “Hwang Minhyun.” He stated, unsure of what to say. Minhyun leaned back, obviously pleased.

“I didn’t know you worked there.” He said. Jonghyun resisted the urge to laugh. “Well, it’s not like I tell everyone where my part time job is.” He said, handing over the chicken and pocketing the money. The house behind Minhyun was dark, he noticed, a small one room. He had only ordered one serving of chicken too.

“Are you eating alone?” Jonghyun asked against his better judgement, knowing it was impolite to ask people such things, but doing it anyways. Minhyun had been about to close the door, but he stopped and looked at Jonghyun curiously for a second. “I’m avoiding family dinner.” He said, face shadowed by the half closed door. Jonghyun shifting his feet, questions bubbling up inside of him, but not wanting to intrude more than he had.

Minhyun laughed sharply. “My father might be rich, Jonghyun, but he’ll never spend it on me. So forgive me if I don’t want to have to put on a show for his newest girlfriend.” Jonghyun blinked, thrown off. “I wasn’t.” He muttered softly. The anger and derisiveness faded off Minhyun’s face as he regarded him.

“Really?” He asked, disbelieving. Jonghyun nodded, unsure of why that was such a surprise. “That’s a first.” He smiled lopsidedly. Jonghyun was surprised to find the flitting thought of _he’s gorgeous_ passing through his mind. “People only want to get close to me because I’m rich, or because they want to sleep with me.” Minhyun added nonchalantly, leaning against the doorframe.

“Are you drunk?” Jonghyun questioned bluntly, finally figuring out why Minhyun was acting so strangely, spilling information everywhere. Minhyun glanced at him through half lidded eyes, lips quirking. “Maybe. It’s just some soju.” Jonghyun wrinkled his nose. “Is that how you usually solve your problems?”

“By trying to forget them?” Minhyun clarified. Jonghyun nodded, shoving his hands into the pocket of his white sweatshirt. “Yeah.” He smiled twistedly, as if he had thought of something funny in a painful way. “It works for some things, but the side effects aren’t usually worth it.” Jonghyun didn’t completely understand what he was talking about, but he tried to look understanding.

“Wait here.” He said. Minhyun’s eyes followed his form, glued to his back, as Jonghyun turned around and ran back to his motorcycle. He reached into his backpack, strapped onto the container on the back of the motorcycle, and drew out the drink he kept there for emergencies such as this. He turned around and jogged back up the steps, holding out the water bottle filled with dark pink liquid to Minhyun. 

Minhyun took it, turning it over slowly in his hands. “What is it?” He asked curiously. “Hangover medicine. A friend taught it to me. It’s a great remedy.” Jonghyun said as nonchalantly as possible, shrugging as if it was nothing. He had learned to perfect the recipe, having little to nothing else to do with his time. Minhyun cracked a smile.

“Make sure to drink it in the morning.” Jonghyun added. “We do have school tomorrow.” “I don’t know. I might skip.” Jonghyun stared at him. “You’ll just skip?” He asked incredulously. He must have sounded insulted, because Minhyun’s ears reddened. “Or maybe not, if it means that much to you.” He mumbled, on second thought.

Jonghyun huffed. “It should mean something to you. Getting a high school diploma will help you graduate and get into college, which will help you run a decent rest of your life.” Minhyun thought about it for a second, then smiled. “Alright.” He acknowledged, as his phone rang. At the speed of lightning, Minhyun yanked it out and swiped quickly to see who was calling. The light of the phone illuminated his face, something sliding over his features.

“I have to go.” He announced. “Thanks for delivering the chicken, and the drink.” He held up the chicken and water bottle respectively. Jonghyun nodded, scratching his head. “My boss will be wanting me back anyways.” Minhyun nodded, but was already closing the door to answer the call privately.

The door closed on his back as he turned to leave, coughing. As he drew his sleeve away, preparing to put on his helmet, Jonghyun caught sight of the red speckling it. He sighed, scrubbing at it, until it was a faded pink. He could wash it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU BETTER BELIEVE 2HYUN IS SAILING FOREVER AND ALWAYS  
> I think I've introduced most of the ships by now, except for Winkdeep, and next chapter the plot of the story is kind of revealed (since this is going to be sort of like a real novel, it will be lengthy and must have a plot) so hopefully it will all get off the ground and I won't have to keep introducing so many characters to you guys!
> 
> Side note: Please go check out my Mix Nine fanfiction since nobody will notice it anyways, and my other fanfictions of course love ya *blows heart*


	7. Part D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winter Break is here! Hopefully, that means I can write more. (Or, start a bunch of new stories and binge kdramas because that is my life what can I do)(cue Day6)  
> And did I mention that this is not beta-ed? I don't remember, and I'm too lazy to check *shrugs* Well, it's not. I don't think there are that many mistakes, but if there is feel free to scream at me.

_Samuel_

“I have an announcement!” Mr. Oh called. Nobody looked up, and Mr. Oh slammed his stick down on the desk with a loud thwack. “Class!” That got everyone’s attention, earbuds being pulled out. Samuel slipped his headphones down around his neck, looking up at Mr. Oh with what he hoped was an attentive expression. 

He was holding a flyer, plastering it against the whiteboard with magnets. Samuel squinted, trying to make out the letters, but it was too far away, and the print too small. “I have an announcement.” Mr. Oh repeated, mouth set in a grim line. He gestured to the flyer, a couple of people in the front row letting out gasps. Samuel couldn’t tell if they were gasps of horror or excitement.

“On January 1st, around a month and a half away, there will be the Performing Artists Competition, held by the School of Performing Arts.” Excited whispers spread like wildfire throughout the class. Samuel sat up straighter, leaning forward and listening intently. “The winner, or winners, will be given a full ride scholarship to four years there.” The noise rose to a low roar. A full ride scholarship, especially for four years, was incredibly rare. All expenses taken care of.

“As some of you might remember, this used to annually held.” The noise died down, classmates looking down, a short moment of silence. Samuel remembered. He had been a sophomore at that time, but the news had swept the school. At the competition, a horrible accident, five dead, a large portion injured. A part of him was glad that his mother had forbade him from participating and going to that, him being in trouble. He had been upset at the time, having spent ages preparing a dance, but then they had turned on the news.

It had been the talk for months, people searching to find out the source of what had caused a chandelier to break and fall, causing a fire to start, which then triggered a series of explosions because of the gas close by. Many of his classmates and the upperclassmen had been hospitalized for weeks on end. In the days after the accident, reports were still coming in, new information, new things discovered.

He had thought for sure that the contest was over, the School of Performing Arts having to compensate many of the families affected. At the very least, that it wouldn’t be held this year. Samuel saw the looks shooting around the classroom, everyone wondering how the ones affected would act. Hwang Minhyun remained tall in his seat, Woojin in the back sleeping as always.

“It’s not like he cared anyways.” A girl muttered, giggling behind her hand. There were a few nods and sounds of agreement. Woojin remained sleeping, head on arm. Samuel rolled his eyes, averting his attention back to Mr. Oh, who was trying to look like he was patiently waiting, but was really about to explode.

“Any of you can enter, as a soloist, duo, trio, etc. You can have a team up to seven people, at the very maximum. Applications must be turned in by December 1st. A short demo video of your skills is _required_. If the application is not filled out fully, or the demo video not included, you will be excluded from the competition. If you make it, a rehearsal will be held. If you do make it to that, you are also disqualified. More information will be on the flyer if you pick it up.” Mr. Oh looked around. “Any questions?

A girl raised her hand. “Are co-ed groups allowed?” She asked, casting a glance at Seongwoo, her friends tittering behind their hands. Mr. Oh shook his head. “Not this time.” The girl sagged in disappointment. “Others?” Mr. Oh looked around again, probably hoping that either there were none or that someone asked a good question rather than a stupid one.

Samuel raised his hand, if only to ease his mind Mr. Oh looked relieved, pointing at him with almost too much eagerness. “What are we allowed to perform?” He asked. Mr. Oh checked the flyer as superstitious as possible, then coughed and pretended like he had known the whole time.

“You can dance, sing, rap, hip hop. You can do all of those or only one, or two, or three, or different performances of each one. Anything, really, as long as it doesn’t take forever. Anything else?” He finished. There were a couple minutes that were composed of Mr. Oh looking around one hundred more times and nobody raising their hands.

“Okay. Then, if the class president will pass out the flyers.” He turned to Jonghyun, who stood up and went to the front. He took the stack of flyers, passing them around. Samuel took his, staring at it. He bit his lip as he read the email, remembering how adamant his mother had been about him not going last year.

“Who thinks they’ll be doing it?” Mr. Oh asked, taking a friendly vote. Around half the class raised their hands, Seongwoo, Daniel, Jonghyun, Guanlin, Jaehwan, Sungwoon, Jihoon, Samuel himself, a group of giggling girls who were hitting each other childishly, and, surprisingly, Lee Daehwi. 

Mr. Oh noticed. “Oh, David? You’re signing up?” Samuel noticed how Daehwi’s face darkened at being addressed as David, what Samuel guessed was his English name and had just not been changed on the records. Daehwi nodded, but his fingers were gripping the paper on his desk, knuckles white. _Interesting._ Samuel thought, lips twitching into a smile.

Samuel pulled out his phone as quietly as possible, eyes focusing on the screen. He typed in the web address given on the flyer, waiting impatiently for it to load. Mr. Oh left without a backwards glance, Samuel sure that he was overly joyous to get out of their class. Nobody liked their class. It was made up of a bunch of geniuses and then all the troublemakers, the handsome ones who you couldn’t even touch.

If asked, Samuel could categorize his classmates easily. The beautiful, untouchable ones: Hwang Minhyun, Kang Daniel, Park Jihoon. The troublemakers: Ong Seongwoo, Park Woojin, Lai Guanlin. The geniuses: Lee Daehwi, Yoo Seonho, also Guanlin, and then himself. The antisocial ones: Ahn Hyungseop, Bae Jinyoung. The genuinely nice ones that everyone couldn’t help but like: Ha Sungwoon, Kim Jonghyun. The gossipy and annoying ones: Kim Jaehwan, Yoon Jisung, the few girls. 

Everyone had a stereotype, but lately those lines had been being pushed. The page loaded, Samuel finding the signup page. His mom was going to kill him when she found out, Samuel not even being allowed to practice at home. He had to do it in the school gym after school, when there wasn’t detention at least. His mother had already spoken to the local dancing studios, telling them to not let him in there. It was extreme measures, something that had always confused Samuel, even when he had found out the reason why.

Discreetly, Samuel typed in his information as quickly as possible before sending the application in. He had no idea how he’d get a demo video, the only video he had from his time on Kpop Star when he was around ten. He smiled at the memory, reminiscing in how he had grown as a singer and dancer. Back then, his mother had been fully supportive of his dreams. Something along the road, throughout those five years, had changed her opinion so drastically that dancing had become banned for him.

“Signing up?” Seongwoo asked, breathing down Samuel’s neck. Samuel flipped his phone over on impulse, ripping out his earbuds and looking up at him distrustfully. Seongwoo leaned back, huffing. “Fine.” Samuel felt the tips of his ears redden. “I am.” He muttered in response. Seongwoo seemed to be already done with the conversation, plugging his his earbuds and turning away. Samuel sighed softly to himself. The upperclassmen were either hot or cold with him, despite them being in the same grade and class, they either treated him like a threat or, worse, a younger brother.

Being a genius wasn’t always the best thing. 

 

_Jihoon_

The water that ran from the tap was cold, Jihoon adjusting the water temperature. His hands left soapy smears on the knobs, even though he was as careful as possible. He let the now scalding water run over his hands, the suds rinsing off and swirling down into the drain. Somewhere behind him a stall door opened, and Jihoon watched in the mirror as Jinyoung slipped out, coming up to wash his hands. It didn’t go unnoticed to Jihoon that he chose the one farthest away from Jihoon.

“Are you planning on signing up for the competition?” Jihoon turned off the water, desperate to break the silence. It felt different than other silences he had endured, police stations and Woojin and Daniel, like there was something pressing down on the air. It made him feel claustrophobic, the bathroom suddenly too small.

Jinyoung started, water droplets flitting over the marble of the sink area. He shook his head so quickly that Jihoon had to blink. “You are.” He said it softly, but in the quiet and enclosed bathroom, Jihoon could hear his words clearly. He nodded after a pause, remembering the quick poll Mr. Oh had taken to see who was going to participate. He had raised his hand on impulse, not really thinking it through.

“I’m not sure what I’ll do.” He admitted, feeling the need to keep the conversation afloat. Jinyoung looked positively terrified of having been roped into a conversation with him, but Jihoon was used to that sort of reaction. Most people didn’t seem to realize he was a human, albeit a human close to becoming a pyromaniac, as he had joked with Woojin. Woojin was the only one who would talk to him, the only one who would kiss him without being repulsed, and even if Jihoon felt nothing, he needed Woojin to keep on living as he did. Without Woojin, he was sure he would spiral into pitch darkness and never find his way out.

“Maybe popping.” He said after a moment of silence, yanking himself from his thoughts. Jinyoung smiled shyly at this, no doubt picturing something strange in his mind. Jihoon was glad that an offhand comment had seemed to lighten the mood in the restroom, Jinyoung relaxing under his stare.

“I’m sure you’re good at it.” Jinyoung’s voice was soft, but it still startled Jihoon to hear him speak. It was slightly scratchy, as if he hadn’t used it in a long time. Come to think of it, Jihoon couldn’t remember if he’d ever heard Jinyoung speak. Jinyoung dried his hands, stretching his hands over his hand to throw the paper towel like a basketball. The hem of his shirt rode up for a brief second, skin flashing and then disappearing under the white t-shirt. And in that brief flash, Jihoon caught a glimpse of purpling   
black bruises scattered across his abdomen, overlapping each other.

In an instant, he found himself in front of Jinyoung, one hand holding Jinyoung’s wrists above his head, the other jerking up the hem of his shirt. He could see a clear few of the bruises now, stark against his pale skin, disappearing up his chest. Jinyoung made a soft sound, a gasp of pain or of surprise, Jihoon wasn’t sure.

As gently as possible, Jihoon probed the bruises. Jinyoung flinched away from his touch, sucking in his stomach. Jihoon let his shirt fall back down, crossing back so that there was a good foot or so of space between them.  
“Did Woojin do that?” He asked in an accusatory tone, eyes narrowing as he remembered coming across Woojin beating up Jinyoung in the hallway. Jinyoung smiled like he knew a secret. “Have fun at the competition.” He said, edging out of the bathroom. 

The door swung shut, leaving Jihoon behind, staring at the wooden grains, Jinyoung’s smile burned in his brain.

 

_Daehwi_

“Eomma.” Daehwi slid the flyer for the competition across the table. His mother set down her chopsticks carefully, pushing it closer to herself so that she could read it. Immediately, her smile transformed into a frown. Daehwi felt his heart sink, knowing that it was hopeless from now on. “What is this?” His mother asked, pushing it into the middle of the table, voice formal and composed.

Daehwi swallowed. “It’s a competition the school is hosting. I thought that I would sign up.” Inside, he mentally cursed. He shouldn’t have phrased it like that. His mother’s frown deepened. “No.” She said curtly, taking the flyer and folding it up into neat little squares. Daehwi was sure it would be found in the trash bin later that night.

“Eomma.” He said, voice pleading. Her face tightened. “Daehwi-ah.” She said, tone equally pleading. Daehwi crossed his arms. “Mom, dancing and music had nothing to do with dad’s death. Why can’t I do it? My injury hardly bothers me. That accident was months ago, in a different _country_ even. It doesn't affect anything of the present.” A lie, his father’s death hurt him every single day. 

His mother glanced up sharply. “I said no, Daehwi, and that is my final answer. I’m sure Ms. Kim would agree with me…” Daehwi shot to his feet, slamming his chair backward. “Mom!” He cried. “I hate America, I hate Korea, you control my life-why can’t _I_ just do something fun that I want to do for once?!” He knew immediately that this was an overreaction, that he’d said the same thing. He’d never screamed at his mother before, always been happy and brave and strong for her. _He was sooo tired of having to be like that. Nobody was perfect, so why did he have to act like he was?_

“Go to your room.” She said, standing as well, pointing in the direction of the stairs calmly. Daehwi didn’t even bother to clear his dishes, just ran up the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him. Hot tears were already falling from his eyes, and he swiped at them as he banged his door shut. It thumped in the wall, making him flinch. He fell facedown on his bed, trying not to sob.

Through the crack of his open window, Daehwi heard the scraping of wood against wood. He moved his head but didn’t turn to look. There was a faint tap of something hitting glass, and Daehwi stirred, lifting his head and peering through swollen eyes in the direction of his window.

He walked over as lightly as possible, pushing open his window all the way only for a pebble to fly and hit him in the face. Daehwi flailed backwards, tripping over his desk chair and landing on the floor with a thud. His arm was aching, Daehwi wincing as he used it to carefully touch his head. There was a lump swelling on it, meaning he would have to go downstairs to put ice on it.

Then he remembered that he had been hit in the head with a pebble. Meaning someone had thrown the pebble. _Please no. Please please please let that be some random bird._ He slowly raised his head, peeking over his desk as slowly and carefully as possible, scanning the area outside his window. Directly across from his window was Kim Samuel’s. It was open. And Samuel was looking straight at him.

Unable to do anything else, Daehwi slowly rose, rubbing his head sheepishly. Samuel didn’t exactly smile when he saw him, but Daehwi would like to imagine that his face got somewhat brighter. “What?” Daehwi called, leaning his own head out of the window. Samuel squinted at him, a gust of wind blowing into his face and making his hair fly all over the place. Daehwi found that funny, as Samuel’s hair was either just perfect or general, or was made that way by a can of hair gel. You wouldn’t have guessed, his hair hardly looked greasy or anything close to the sort. Maybe he just had really good shampoo and conditioner. Daehwi wished he had that, dying his hair had made finding the right conditioner and shampoo difficult.

“Are you really signing up for the competition?” Samuel called, casting a superstitious glance behind him. Daehwi couldn’t really make out his room, but he was pretty sure the door was called. _I bet this looks really strange to someone walking past._ The thought made Daehwi giggle, imagining an elderly lady seeing two heads sticking out of windows adjacent to each other.

Samuel was still staring at him, as if he was an alien. Daehwi sealed his lips to prevent another laugh from escaping. “Maybe.” He called. “My mom’s pretty against it.” Samuel seemed to be expecting this, and Daehwi remembered his eyes that were almost certainly swollen and red from crying. His eyes were always a wreck after the slightest bit of crying. People told him his was a pretty crier, and though that might be true, Daehwi hated how noticeable it was.

“Same.” Daehwi blinked as Samuel answered. _Same? But he’s signing up and his mom loves him..._ Samuel gave him a rueful smile. “Of course I’m still going to do it, even if my mom is totally against it.” he drawled out the words, as if they were close friends who discussed like this everyday. “What were you planning on performing, anyways?” He asked. It took Daehwi a moment to realize he had been addressing him.

“Oh...probably dancing and singing.” He admitted shyly. Samuel raised an eyebrow. “Since I have some compositions sitting in my file...I might alter one of those to fit one person.” Daehwi continued, feeling more flustered as he went farther along. He was practically stumbling on his words, the sentence ending in a rush of word throw up. 

“You compose?” Samuel asked, compositions catching his attention. Daehwi flushed further. “I play around once in awhile when I have free time.” He said in a soft voice, before realizing that Samuel might not be able to hear him. He had, Samuel leaning forward on his elbows and saying casually; “I choreograph.” Daehwi nodded, feeling a bit at ill ease. He could compose, produce, write lyrics, and play instruments, but he couldn’t choreograph. Sure, he could dance, but choreograph? No.

There was a yell from somewhere inside Samuel’s house, and Daehwi realized just how dark it had gotten outside. Samuel called something back, momentarily disappearing from view. Daehwi shifted position awkwardly, wondering if he should pull shut his window and go to sleep, but Samuel reappeared a second later.

“I have to go.” He yelled. Daehwi nodded, eyes watering when a chilling wind blew. “But if you need help, you can always ask.” Samuel paused momentarily, staring at him. Daehwi managed to nod, quickly slamming his window and falling backwards a couple steps until he landed on his bed.

He stared up at the ceiling, watching his galaxy glow in the dark stars swirl as it all faded into the darkness of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with Winkdeep in the works, all the ships have officially started sailing. The question is; which ones will sink and which ones will land? ;)


	8. Part E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm one day late but I got back yesterday and figured that I should just update everything today.  
> This feels like a giant kind of angsty mess---you might guess why idk and I apologize for you having to read it and confuse yourself or whatever. It probably won't make a lot of sense.  
> My new years resolution is to really focus and work on this since I've finished my other two fanfictions that I was updating-hopefully it goes as planned.

_Woojin_

“Goal!” Woojin mopped sweat from his brow, falling back as his teammates streamed forward, hugging and cheering. He laughed softly. _It’s just a gym game._ He walked over to where there were water bottles scattered across the ground and picked up his, shivering as he sat down on the grass, cold ends tickling his legs through his sweatpants.

Usually, in weather this cold, they would play the game inside, but their gym glass was too big and ample space was needed. Twisting off his cap, Woojin leaned back on his forearm, tipping the water into his mouth. It was ice cold from sitting on the cold ground for over an hour, Woojin sputtering in shock when it hit his teeth. The water dripped onto his shirt, making goosebumps spring up across his arms. He should have brought out his jacket like the smart people had, now he was going to freeze to death in the half hour they had left where the other teams were playing.

Grass crunching under feet alerted Woojin to another person’s presence. He looked up, squinting against the harsh sunlight. It wasn’t even winter yet, it being around midway through November, but it certainly seemed like it was January. Hyungseop sat down a couple feet away from him, taking his own water bottle, neatly labeled of course, and sipping from it slowly as he changed the song he was listening to. Though they weren’t supposed to bring their phones to gym class, somehow Hyungseop got away with listening to his music anyways. Woojin realized that he didn’t think he had ever seen Hyungseop without his earbuds in or on hand. 

Woojin observed him for a few short moments, the pale alabaster skin and the ebony hair. Unlike most of the students, he had on sweatpants instead of shorts, black ones with the name of the school written in large white letters vertically on the side of the pants. He didn’t look cold, even though his t-shirt was so thin that Woojin could almost see through it. 

“What are you looking at?” Hyungseop asked without opening his eyes. He fell backward, the water bottle crinkling. It was empty now. Woojin didn’t answer, instead pulling his knees up to his chest and taking a mouse sip from his water bottle. He couldn’t help remember the last time he had seen Hyungseop, in the hallway after Jinyoung and Jihoon. 

Hyungseop sat up, cross legged, opening his eyes slowly. Woojin was reminded of a cat, Hyungseop’s eyes slits at first before widening into his judgemental gaze. “Why are you looking at me?” He asked, changing his earlier question. Woojin set his water down, barely noticing as some of it spilled. He held Hyungseop’s gaze, meeting his silent challenge. 

“Are you not signing up for the competition?” Hyungseop asked innocently, but Woojin knew it was anything about that. It was like they were playing a game, seemingly nice and kind, but both opponents waiting for the opposite to make their next move. Woojin shook his head. “Why would I?” He replied, hand finding his water bottle to take a sip again, only to find that most of it was already seeping into the ground. Woojin bit back a curse just as Hyungseop said as sweetly as possible; “I’m pretty sure that you signed up last year, though.”

Woojin’s hand froze on the water bottle. It crunched loudly as his fist tightened. _Not now. Please, not now._ He begged silently, biting his lip so hard that he tasted blood in an effort to stay conscious. He tried to blink away the tears building in the corners of his eyes. Hyungseop was surveying him quietly, lips curved into a small smile. Woojin took a random water bottle, drinking from it as quickly as possible.

“I did.” He acknowledged when the cold water had coursed through his veins, waking him up from his haze enough so that he could throw on his mask as quickly as possible. The damage had already been done of course, but Woojin made his face as scary as possible and hoped it would pay off.

“So why are you not doing it this year?” Hyungseop pressed. To anyone else, it would see like a friendly curiosity, but Woojin couldn’t help but feel like he was being attacked on every wall he had put up. “I didn’t feel like it. Besides, it’s not like I have time or talent to do something like that.” He raised an eyebrow at Hyungseop. “Did you think I was some idol machine or something?” Hyungseop fell silent, staring down at his empty water bottle.

The lie was obvious to Woojin, but he had spent enough time watching people to know what they believed and what made them believe that. If you sounded like it was the truth, they were more likely to believe it. Woojin had been dancing and rapping for years, holding onto his childhood dreams to be an idol with the help of Youngmin and Donghyun. He didn’t tell anyone that, at school becoming somewhat like the monsters from children’s nightmares.

Nobody knew him, Youngmin and Donghyun might have known him better than most, but now he was alone. Even if he told someone, they wouldn’t understand. They hadn’t been at his house when there was glass lying in jagged shards on the floor, they hadn’t had to run and run until their heart hurt too much for them to go on. None of them knew Woojin, and though they probably believed what people said; either the ‘bullies come from broken homes’, or the ones directly personal to him. ‘Bullies come  
from a broken home’. It had a ring of truth, except the part that this home they mentioned, Woojin had no place that he called that. People like him came from a broken mind and a broken heart.

“Why aren’t you signing up?” Woojin asked instead. Hyungseop ignored his question, but Woojin noticed how he pulled his knees up to his chest, something passing over his face. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” He said softly, and he sounded, well he sounded sad. Woojin frowned. 

Ahn Hyungseop was the quiet but smart one, the one everyone was afraid to ask a question to. Perfect scores on tests, an icy attitude, sharp answers and replies. Woojin had never interacted with him personally until now, but he had seen Hyungseop deal with many a situations with a single snapping sentence, seen his wrath turned on unsuspecting bystanders, fortifying his title as the Ice Prince of their school. 

Woojin wanted to press the issue, both sides of him wondering what made the great Ahn Hyungseop so vulnerable. The side that caused pain, and the one that felt it. People said that Woojin had no heart. That wasn’t true. He had half a heart, and he kept the other side protected. When he was five, and realized bruises weren’t normal for kids his age, when he was seven and his mother taught him how to apply makeup. Since he was ten, hiding behind the couch, and twelve, scrambling through alleyways with only his own frantic breathing in his ears. 

Maybe it was the thought that maybe Woojin wasn’t as alone in this world as he thought, that stopped him from letting the fire burn through them, sharp jabs take the place of soft questions. Hyungseop raised his head slowly, dark eyes pinning Woojin in place. “Woojin.” He said softly, scooting closer. Woojin raised his eyebrows, trying to ignore the unsettled feeling in his stomach.

Hyungseop leaned in until they were eye to eye, breath ghosting over his face. “Not everyone who lives with monsters becomes one of them.” Woojin jerked back. “You don’t know _anything_.” He snapped, yells of excitement from their classmates cutting through the moment. Hyungseop looked up, seeing something pas them. Woojin turned to, a small circle having formed a whiles off.

He got up. “Looks like they’re having a dance battle or something.” Hyungseop nodded, rising to his feet with a quick bounce. Woojin cast him one last look before running over the lawn, leaving their conversation behind.

 

_Daniel_

Seongwoo stared at him from across the circle, a half smile on his lips. “Do you really think you can beat me?” Daniel didn’t deem himself low enough to respond, so he only nodded. He had been bboying since he was a little kid, doing street performances occasionally, and had taken up dance in his free time. He knew that Seongwoo was an experienced popper and dancer in general, but Daniel could beat him. He had to.

The beat of the music Seongwoo had chosen blared through the air, coming from a large orange speaker, and Seongwoo immediately started dancing. Daniel stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back, eyeing Seongwoo carefully. The idea of having a dance battle had happened suddenly, someone from their class pulling out their phone, hooking it up, suggesting a little round before the actual competition.

It didn’t feel like a little round. It felt like how it would before a boxing match, right before it started, Daniel’s blood heating up. If he had to pick his greatest enemy, his rival, out of everyone he knew, it would be Ong Seongwoo. Ong Seongwoo was something...different. He was bold and flirtatious, his personality grating against Daniel viciously. He wasn’t afraid to flaunt his playboyness right in Daniel’s face, wasn’t afraid to flaunt that he had been somehow involved with Hyejin. He knew he was talented in performance, his entire life was a performance.

Though, Daniel did have something on his side, he remembered, lips curving into a smile. Seongwoo was afraid of _him_ also. Daniel was stronger, and if this was historical Korea, it would be a close battle of power. Who had more, who was worth more, who would be better. So Daniel watched Seongwoo deliver his dancing silently, planning out his own moves.

He couldn’t deny that Seongwoo was a very good dancer, his face expressional, movements more exaggerated than they had to be. It was all for performance. Seongwoo would be someone who performed with flashing lights and glitter, confetti and loud music, like a club performance. Something that got the audience on their feet and screaming their hearts out. He belonged in the limelight, Daniel could tell that much.

Daniel himself, he was someone who could probably do anything asked of him. He could be sexy, or quiet, or cute in the background, be a backup dancer as he had done before. It wasn’t something he thought of often-performing on a stage, dancing and making music like he wanted to-as he knew the only stage he would ever be on was a raised boxing ring, getting beat up time after time and having to rise to his feet every single time.

_It doesn’t do you any good to dwell on what might happen._ His mother had told him once, when he was a small child, stroking his hair. _Live in the moment and life you have been given. Do not wish for more._ Their family had been through a number of tough times, and those words had been Daniel’s mantra. He lived by them. It was useless to think of his idol fantasy, when boxing was his reality.

“So, what do you have?” Seongwoo was stepping backward, holding out his hands in a blatant show. Daniel looked down at them quietly, staring at his feet. He didn’t make a move to the center. For some reason, he couldn’t make his legs move, his stomach turning in a sickening way. “What? You don’t think you can beat me?” Seongwoo asked cheekily, and Daniel realized suddenly that he didn’t want to do this.

He stepped back, shaking his head. The sick feeling rose in him, so much that he felt physically sick. _I can’t...I can’t do this._ Because, somehow, dancing in even a battle, would be taking a step forward and being unable to step backwards, the first step on a way to what he really dreamed. Daniel could not take that path. _I’m a fighter. I box. I’m not an idol. I don’t dance. I need to hold onto this reality, not a far off fantasy. Don’t do this, Daniel. Don’t do it. For your family. Dreams might be pretty, but you always forget them when you open your eyes._

Seongwoo stepped forward, the easy playfulness fading from his eyes. He leaned in close, breath ghosting over Daniel’s ear, words so soft that only he could hear it. “Are you just going to leave me hanging? I know what you’re up too-you’re making it seem like you deem yourself so much better than me that you won’t even compete. And you know what, news flash: you aren’t better than me.” He hissed, drawing the words out with a vicious smile.

“It’s like you want me to hit you again.” Daniel murmured back in reply. Seongwoo moved backwards a bit, shifting his feet to a fighter’s stance. Daniel raised a single eyebrow. He wouldn’t have guessed Seongwoo knew what a fighter’s stance was, much less that he was so purposely calling Daniel out. “Bring it.” Seongwoo said, loud enough for the whole group of students to hear him. Daniel heard several gasps, his own lips twisting in a half smirk, half smile. 

“Sure.” He said easily, rolling his shoulders, shifting backwards. It was beginning to feel like a boxing match, the crowd surrounding them, the tension building up. If he closed his eyes he could almost hear the roar of noise, the sweat trickling down his back. Surprisingly, Seongwoo struck first, quicker than Daniel had expected. The punch hit him right in the gut, but Daniel only leaned back, lips quirking upwards into a smile.

Let Seongwoo fight. He couldn’t hurt him. “Teacher, teacher!” One of his classmates was waving over Mr. Oh. “Seongwoo attacked Daniel!” Seongwoo stepped back, confusion passing over his face. Daniel smiled.

 

_Seongwoo_

The mop hit the floor, this time the handle completely splintering off. Seongwoo looked up at Daniel calmly. “Do you have a thing with breaking mops or something?” He asked, toeing the sharp splinters of wood. Daniel hissed. “Only when I’m pissed off that I have to miss boxing practice because of certain stupid human beings.” Seongwoo was somewhat miffed at such an unhidden jab directed at him, but he let it slide.

“You set _me_ up.” He pointed out, a surge of disgruntlement twisting his insides at the memory. Daniel shrugged. Seongwoo sighed. “Look.” He finally said, sitting down cross legged on the floor. Daniel looked at him blankly, before slowly sitting down opposite from him. “I don’t know exactly what’s up with you.” Seongwoo started, peering at Daniel’s lowered face. He didn’t seem to be his usual self, subdued and quiet.

“What’s up with me?” Daniel leaned back on his hands, casting him a nonchalant look. Seongwoo scoffed. “Come on, man. You’ve been acting weird.” Daniel frowned. “We’re not close, stop acting like we are.” Seongwoo stuck out his tongue. “Can we call a truce?” He asked, sticking out his hand. Daniel looked down at his hand in disgust. “Why would we do that?” He asked, voice full of his distaste for Seongwoo.

Seongwoo rolled his eyes. He didn’t understand why Daniel had to be so difficult all the time, but then again, maybe he did. He and Daniel were alike in their own ways. “Because we keep getting detention, meaning you keep getting in trouble with your coach, and I have to spend time together with you. It’ll be a win-win for everyone.” Seongwoo said diplomatically.

Daniel looked at him through slitted eyes. “Since when did you care about boxing?” “I don’t.” Seongwoo said without letting a beat fall between them. “I only care about myself.” He added smugly. Daniel let out a sigh of disgust, muttering something under his breath that sounded like of course. He got up.

“Fine.” Seongwoo let his hand drop to his side. “But you have to keep your end of the deal too.” Daniel pointed out, carefully. Seongwoo stood also, groaning softly. “I’m not the one who constantly wants to fight.” He said through clenched teeth. Daniel reached into his pocket and withdrew a piece of gum. Seongwoo watched hum unwrap it and pop it into his mouth, chewing slowly and deliberately.

“Not going to share?” Seongwoo asked playfully, elbowing Daniel lightly in the stomach. Daniel stepped backward quick enough for Seongwoo to almost lose his balance. “No.” He looked around the gym. “Well, I’m out, or my coach will really kill me.” He said it in a joking way, but there was a grimace on his face. 

“Go ahead.” Seongwoo waved a hand. Daniel shot him one last look, turning and striding out of the gym. The door slammed closed with more force than necessary. Seongwoo let his arm drop, sneering at the still clanging door. _You’re not better than me, Kang Daniel. You’re not._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay also could you guys pitch me some ideas for a good summary? I want to change it because I feel like it doesn't fully encompass the story or draw people in (the second line mostly I like the first) This story isn't going to be as fluffy as it was at first...it's kind of taken a more angsty turn if you could tell and switched to more angst and like the competition (everyone wants to be an idol lol) Ideas are appreciated!


	9. Part F

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm this one is a bit longer than usual and also has a lot more perspectives, though they're kind of short. Also I know that I seem to be repeating a lot of the same ideas persay, but abide with me. I'm not entirely satisfied with this story either, I have lots of plans but writing it has been tough and slow. I hope the ships make this worth reading lol.  
> A big thank you for helping me hit 100 kudos AND 2000 hits on this!

_ Seonho _

“Yah, Seonho!”  Guanlin skidded to a stop in front of their table, workbooks flying across the table.  Seonho reeled back, narrowly avoiding a thin blue one.  Guanlin huffed, cheekbones reddening the tiniest bit, as he quickly collected them.  Seonho passed him a couple that had hit the floor.

“What is it?”  He asked.  “Are you doing the competition?”  Guanlin asked, cheeks flushed.  He was practically vibrating with excitement, and Seonho allowed himself a small smile as he stacked the workbooks neatly.  Guanlin and he hadn’t become exactly close, but Seonho did feel more comfortable around him then he had. 

“No.”  He still replied curtly, Guanlin seemingly deflating.  “Why not?”  He asked, leaning forward on his elbows.  Seonho leaned back, putting on his glasses to have something to do.  “I just don’t want to.”  Guanlin pouted, sticking out his bottom lip.  “I think I want to do it.”  Seonho choked back a laugh, rubbing his nose.

“You?  Can you even dance?”  Guanlin stared at him, affronted.  “I-”  He paused, deep in thought.  “I’m willing to learn.”  Seonho shook his head slowly, opening up the workbooks.  “Did you study like you were supposed to?”  Guanlin bit his lip guiltily.  Seonho sighed.  “How about you stop thinking about your imaginary talent and start focusing on studying so you can actually graduate high school one day that is hopefully in the near future?”

Guanlin slowly unwrapped a piece of gum, popping it into his mouth.  He peered at Seonho closely.  “Did you not get enough sleep or something?”  He finally asked, sitting back.  Seonho took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.  He had been hoping he didn’t look as tired as he felt, but apparently it shined through his personality.  

“I’m just stressed.”  He muttered, putting his glasses back on and blinking away the fuzziness at the corners of his eyes.  It had been a tiring past couple of nights, cooking and waiting for his mom to come home, cleaning, completing his schoolwork, preparing more for the tutoring sessions, and studying for a series of exams and tests soon to come that would determine if he was kept in advance placement.  Sleep had been pushed back on his list of priorities, as it always was.  His mom was his top, followed by school, and then his own health.  

Guanlin nodded.  “I can’t relate.”  Seonho wrinkled his nose.  “We’re in the same position, you know.”  Guanlin chewed on his gum thoughtfully.  “I know, but the difference is that you actually care about staying there and I really don’t.”  Seonho looked at him in surprise.  “Why not?”  Guanlin smiled cheekily.  “Because I’m a genius.” 

Seonho blinked.  “That...that doesn’t make any sense.”  Guanlin shrugged.  “It also doesn’t make any sense that someone like you isn’t signing up for the show.”  Seonho’s mouth flattened out into a thin line.  “It’s exactly why I’m not signing up.  I need to concentrate on school.”  “That’s not what you said earlier.”  Guanlin pointed out.

“Why do you care so much?”  Seonho asked instead, passing him a pencil since he knew Guanlin never brought one.  “I don’t want to be alone in doing it.”  Guanlin said simply.  Seonho laughed, trying to mask it as a cough.  “Sorry to disappoint, but just because I’m not doing it doesn’t the mean the rest of our class isn’t.” 

Guanlin huffed.  “But I want you to do it.”  He whined.  Seonho put down his pen, giving him an annoyed look.  “Focus, Guanlin.  I’m giving you your test in five minutes.”  Guanlin muttered something under his breath, but reluctantly looked down at the review sheet Seonho had spent a good hour creating last night.

About a minute after he had started working, Guanlin set down his pencil and said; “Why notttttttttttttttttttt-”  “Do.  Your.  Work.”  Seonho said through gritted teeth.  Guanlin shook his head, sticking out his bottom lip again.  It made Seonho’s heart feel a bit weak, remnants of crushes that had dissolved in the cigarette smoke.  It was hard to believe that this needy boy who could hardly sit still was the same one who add cornered Seonho, dark eyes shadowed by the smoke, glowing tips, and also the one-the one who had saved Seonho’s life.

Seonho wondered if he remembered.  It had only been a year after all.

“Is it because of the accident last year?”  Guanlin asked slowly.  Seonho froze, doing everything in his power to keep his head from snapping up so that Guanlin could see the panic that had filled his eyes.  The competition last year was what had made them all believe it wouldn’t continue this year.  An accident-five dead, more than that injured.  Seonho had tried to block most of it from his memory, if he really thought he could see the crumbling chandelier, glass showering down and mixing with fake crystals, the smell of burning rubber so strong, fire and flames and bricks...everything coming crashing down.  It was really a miracle only five had died, but all five had been competitors.

“Why are you bringing that up?”  Seonho said softly, trying not to let his voice waver by keeping it as low as possible.  Guanlin seemed to have sensed the shift in mood, because he straightened, twirling the pencil between his fingers.  “I was just...wondering.  Asking.”  He blinked, but his eyes were flicking around.   _ He asked about it on purpose.   _ Seonho realized.

He stood up, the world shooting up beside him, blurs out of the corners of his eyes.  “No, you’re not just asking.”  He snapped, suddenly angry.  His hands found the books, dragging them into a pile, putting away his pens.  “Seonho.”  Guanlin said, looking surprised.  “It was just a question.” 

“No.  It wasn’t.”  Seonho spat out.  “I’m not doing the competition, and I never will do it, so stop.  Just stop it.”  He stormed out of the library, running as soon as the door had slammed shut.  When he finally slowed, his glasses becoming too blurry to continue on, he slid down against a pillar. It was cold, freezing his tears as he swiped at them.  His phone was pinging endlessly, and eventually he slipped it out just to make it stop.

He clicked on the first notification that popped up, eyes still blurry from tewars and squinting against the wind.  The notifications were all from Guanlin texting him, a mix of English and Korean.  Seonho vaguely remembered them exchanged numbers once for tutoring, he had thought Guanlin had trashed his as soon as they were out of sight from each other though, since he had never heard a word from Guanlin.  Guanlin had never answered Seonho’s texts when he was late or missed a session either.

Seonho closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he went to settings.   _ Block user.  Are you sure you want to block this user?  Yes.   _ One  after the other, the notifications stopping.  Seonho probably wouldn’t have understood them anyways.

 

_ Daehwi _

Daehwi checked his watch again, nervously jostling his leg.   _ Relax.  It’s only been five minutes.   _ It wasn’t a big deal if someone was five minutes late, he didn’t know why he was stressing so much.  Well, yes, he did know actually.  Because it was Kim Samuel, and he had been the one to set it up, getting Daehwi’s number in the process.  If Daehwi let his imagination drift, he imagined that Samuel was flirting with him subtly by doing that...that was why he tried not to let his imagination drift.

“Sorry I’m late.”  The door to the gym closed, Daehwi’s head jerking up to see Samuel pulling out his earbuds, shaking out his hair.  Daehwi watched him loosen his tie, comb his fingers through his hair.  It occurred to him that this was the first time he had been this close to Samuel without Samuel hating him, or thinking he was weird.   _ Or drunk.   _ Daehwi pushed the thought out of his head..  He was in no hurry to remember that disastrous dinner. 

“I wasn’t waiting long.”  Daehwi stood, trying to sound nonchalant.  Samuel broke into a relieved smile, lighting up his features.  Daehwi could have melted right then and there at how cute he looked, ruffled hair and a loose shirt, smile shining through the darkness.  It was a smile that could cure cancer.  It completely changed his image, making him look happier and soft instead of the side of him Daehwi was accustomed to, cold and disgusted with the world.

“Why did you want to meet?”  Daehwi pressed.  Samuel looked up, as if coming back to the world.  “Oh, yeah.  I promised you, didn’t I?”  He waved his phone.  Daehwi blinked in confusion, only fo feel his phone ping in his pocket a moment later.  He slid it out, curiosity piqued.  Samuel had sent him a video, and after a few seconds of Samuel watching him, Daehwi clicked on it and turned his phone to watch it full screen.

It was a video of workouts it seemed, a peppy American woman with a blond ponytail and an Asian male who looked considerably less happy.  Daehwi looked at Samuel questioningly.  “What is it?”  He asked finally, when it became clear that Samuel wasn’t going to just tell him.  Samuel broke into a smile again.

“Well, you’re ankle hurts you because of the accident right?”  He asked.  Daehwi looked down at the ground, cheeks reddening, feeling uncomfortable.  Samuel coughed.  “Well, this is a set of physical therapy of the sort to make your ankle stronger.”  Daehwi looked at him suspiciously.  “Why?”  he asked, trying to keep his tone from slipping into darker emotions.

Samuel blinked.  “Because...you want to sign up for the competition and your mom is pretty against it, part of that being her thinking you aren’t strong enough, right?”  Daehwi side-eyed him warily.  “How do you know that?”  Samuel blew out a breath.  “I can just tell.”  Daehwi blinked.   _ Does that mean he can ‘just tell’ that I have a huge crush on him?  Oh geez, I have a huge crush on him.  Oh my gosh.   _

“...Look, I’ll do it with you.”  Daehwi turned to Samuel, eyes widening in question.  Samuel laughed.  “I said I’ll do it with you.  Then, I was thinking…”  He trailed off suddenly, not completing the sentence.  “Thinking what?”  Daehwi asked curiously.  He hadn’t seen Kim Samuel at a loss for words yet, and it was strange.

Samuel seemed to regain his resolve, a shutter snapping across his face.  “Well, since you can dance but not choreograph, I thought I would help you with that and you could help me with my song arrangement.”  Daehwi struggled to wrap his mind around the sentence, gears whirling.  

“Why would you do that?  I thought we were competition.”  He said, momentarily wondering why he had said the last sentence.  It hadn’t even occurred to him before he had said it.  Samuel shrugged, taking a sip of water from his bottle.  Daehwi could see ice floating it and suddenly he felt parched, watching him swallow in what seemed like slow motion.  “Maybe I want to actually have someone to compete against.”  He said, putting a cynical spin on the words.

“And I thought you hated me.”  Daehwi added conversationally.  Samuel choked on his water, sputtering.  Before he turned away, Daehwi saw his face was bright red.  He looked down at his feet, awkwardly shifting, wondering if that was maybe the wrong time to say something like that.  Samuel ‘resurfaced’, smoothing down his hair by reflex.

“I don’t  _ hate _ you.”  He said guardedly.  “You’re just..weird.”  Daehwi gave him a look.  “As if that’s better.”  His heart might feel a bit warm and fluttery, but that was in no relation to being called weird by Samuel since weird wasn’t a compliment or word that made you feel warm and fluttery inside like Samuel’s smile and his hair and his eyes and probably his laughed when he would laugh a genuine laugh in front of Daehwi, which Daehwi really wanted to hear... _ Snap out of it.  You’re so totally in love, but don’t make it obvious. _

“Um.”  Samuel went for instead of an actual answer, and Daehwi noticed that he was fiddling with the hem of his shirt, fingers twisting it up.  Daehwi wouldn’t have pegged him as someone with a nervous habit, but it made him seem more human, like an actual fifteen year old struggling with high school and cramming for exams.  It was nice.  

“Do you want to do it?”  He asked instead, and Daehwi nodded.  “It sounds great.”  He flushed, and then added; “Thanks for thinking of me.”  Samuel shrugged, pulling out his earbuds from his phone and shoving them into his pocket, holding out his phone screen so both of them could see.  And so it began.

Daehwi couldn’t help but feel nervous as the time passed, as the screen was small, meaning they both had to stand very close to it, very close to each other.  Everytime he moved, it seemed that a part of him would brush against Samuel.  Legs, hands, shoulders-the smell of Samuel’s hair was as distracting as other.  It smelled like woody mango today, another strange combination that Daehwi found he liked immensely.

Around halfway through the exercises, the door opened and Woojin peeked his head in.  He stared at them for a few moments, momentarily lost, then exited as quickly as he had come.  Daehwi only dwelled on it for a couple moments, before Samuel was tapping him on the arm, making him do the exercise. 

 

“You don’t have to walk me home.”  Daehwi said, rubbing his hands together in the chilly night air.  He had only his jacket and a scarf, no gloves like he should have.  It was going to be a cold winter, he could already tell from how frigid November was.  Samuel laughed.  “We live right next door to each other.”  

Daehwi stopped walking.  “Right.”  He resumed walking, this time a couple of paces behind Samuel.  There wasn’t enough room to walk side by side, which was what friends did so it was out of the option anyways, and he didn’t want to walk in front.  He preferred to be the one staring at Samuel, not the other way around.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”  Samuel said, separating from him to walk up his walkway.  Daehwi nodded, them remembered that he had a voice too.  “Bye...see you soon, I mean, see you tomorrow.”  Daehwi awkwardly cleared his throat, nodded, and ran up the steps.  He made sure to enter the house quietly, his mother asleep on the couch with the tv blaring.  He slipped off his shoes, walking over and flipping it off.  He dragged a blanket over her, situating a pillow on her head, and whispered good night before padding lightly up the stairs to his room.

He pulled open the curtains when he got up there, smiling when he saw Samuel’s light was also on.  He watched Samuel walk over, waving when he felt that Samuel could see him clearly.  There was the hint of a smile on Samuel’s face, then he mouthed good night to him and closed the blinds.  Daehwi smiled and did the same with his curtains, falling onto his bed feeling the happiest he had in a long time.

 

_ Jihoon _

“Is someone sitting here?”  Jihoon asked, not waiting for an answer before plopping down besides Jinyoung.  Jinyoung stared at him, hands curling protectively around the small sketchbook he was carrying with him.  Jihoon pulled his backpack off and set it on the ground between his feet as the bus pulled away.

“What are you drawing?”  He asked, trying to peek over Jinyoung’s shoulder.  Jinyoung flipped his sketchbook shut with a decisive snap.  He leaned away from Jihoon, practically flattening himself against the window.  Jihoon looked at him blankly for a few moments, then sat back on the edge of his seat.

“Sorry.”  He mumbled softly, fingers wringing his sleeves.  Jihoon frowned, and Jinyoung seemed to grow more nervous.  “What?”  Jihoon finally asked.  “It’s not like I’m going to bite.”  The look Jinyoung gave him implied that he thought exactly that, and Jihoon tried not to squirm.  “Well, not usually.”  He said with a small laugh.  Jinyoung perpetually relaxed, but still looked wary of him.

“So, what do you usually draw?  Landscapes, portraits, or...um, that other thing?”  Jihoon asked, realizing he knew essentially nothing about art to be able to have a good conversation about it with someone like Jinyoung, who was obviously quite the artist.  Jinyoung stifled a smile with his hand, but Jihoon caught a glimpse of it.  “I mostly do portraits.”  He admitted shyly.  “Or abstract painting, if I have the supplies.”

Jihoon latched onto this, leaning forward and querying; “Since you seem to know something about it, can you tell me what exactly abstract painting is?”  Jinyoung laughed for real this time, short but sweet.  “I don’t know.”  He said when he had stopped.  Jihoon looked at him in confusion.  “Abstract painting is something you can’t explain.  You just  _ paint. _ ”  His eyes had taken on a dreamy expression, somewhat unfocused, as if he was seeing brush strokes and color form before his eyes.

“Oh.”  Jihoon said disinterestedly.  “That’s nice.”  He didn’t understand a word that Jinyoung had said, but he liked Jinyoung’s dreamy expression, the soft way  he had said  _ paint.   _ He wanted to see it again.  Jinyoung looked at him through slitted eyes.  “You don’t get it.”  He said simply, then shrugged and smiled happily.  “That’s alright.”

“Okay.”  Jihoon said, feeling thrown.  It was a weird feeling, one he hadn’t experienced before.  People didn’t catch the mighty Park Jihoon off guard.  It just didn’t happen.  “Why are you talking to me, anyways?”  Jinyoung asked.  He seemed to have found his confidence, wherever it had been.  Jihoon blinked at him.

“I’m curious.”  He replied.  “And you, you are not afraid of me.”  Jinyoung paused, turning his words over.  “We can’t be afraid of every lightning bolt, now can we?”  His eyes sharpened, cynicism slipping into his words.  Jihoon narrowed his eyes.  It was hard to tell, but it seemed that Bae Jinyoung was almost as two faced as him.   _ Interesting.  He’s not just a quiet boy, but he acts like one. _

“Also.”  Jinyoung added, peering at Jihoon closely.  Jihoon leaned back, shifting and glancing out the window.  Jinyoung’s gaze was like a knife, seeing straight into his soul.  “What are you doing?”  Jihoon asked, trying not to seem uncomfortable even though he was.  “Memorizing your features.”  Jinyoung murmured, breath hot on his face.

The bus slid to a stop, and Jinyoung stood up, climbing over Jihoon, who was sitting stunned.  “Wait.”  Jihoon said.  “What were you going to say?”  Jinyoung looked back at him, raising an eyebrow.  Jihoon could swear he was smirking as he said; “Let’s just say that I have bigger things to be afraid of other than you.”

 

_ Minhyun _

“Hello, is this the delivery place?”  Minhyun asked, leaning on one elbow and running his fingers through his hair.  Alcohol stared at him tauntingly from the counter, but he straightened and put it away in the cabinet with the rest of his father’s fancy, expensive wine.  He made sure to lock it too, putting the key on the top which even he had to stand on his tiptoes to reach.  Getting drunk would not be his solution tonight.

“I would assume it is.”  Said the tired voice of whoever had answered the phone.  Minhyun could tell it wasn’t Jonghyun, and he felt a slight tinge of disappointment.  “Can I get a single serving of your fried chicken?”  “Um, sure.”  The boy said.  He wasn’t the best person to choose to answer the phone, everything about it lacked professionalism and efficiency that working at a fast food delivery place entailed.  

“Can you give me an address for that?”  The phone answerer asked, and Minhyun did.  He hung up, resting his chin on the palm of his head and looked around the darkened kitchen.  It was dark.  He flipped on the lights, shivering in the cold house.  The heat was broken, and the landlord claimed they would get around to it but hadn't yet.  That was okay.  It was only November, and not too cold yet, though the winter was sure to be a frigid one.

Minhyun waited, pulling on a sweatshirt and burrowing into it, pulling up his knees under it.  He could just ask his father to fix the heat, but he knew that he would do it only if Minhyun agreed to move back in with him and all his mistresses.  Minhyun didn’t want that, and he considered it a blessing that Aron, his older brother, had let him stay in his apartment while he studied in the U.S.A.

The doorbell rang, and he sprang to his feet, nearly falling as he struggled to pull himself out of his sweatshirt mess.  He caught himself on the edge of the counter, wincing as the sharp edge dug into his stomach.  The doorbell rang again, and Minhyun slipped over in his socks, pulling it open so fast that he nearly fell again.

Jonghyun flipped up the visor of his helmet, a funny half smile on his face.  He held up the chicken, Minhyun smelling the greasiness of it through the thin plastic.  “Did someone call for chicken?”  He asked, raising an eyebrow.  “Twice in one week?”  He added.  Minhyun glowered, snatching the bag.

“Maybe I didn’t want chicken.”  He said defensively, lifting his chin.  Jonghyun leaned against the doorframe, shoving his hands into his pocket.  “Well, then, what do you want?”  He asked.  “The delivery man's number.”  Minhyun said as casually as possible.  Jonghyun blinked at him.  “De?”  He asked, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.  Rolling his eyes, Minhyun rummaged in his sweatshirt pocket and withdrew his phone.  He switched it on, wincing as he saw the low battery notice.  It felt like he had just charged it.

Going to ‘add new contact’ on his contacts page, Minhyun held the phone out to Jonghyun.  Jonghyun wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans, taking the phone gingerly.  Minhyun watched him like a hawk as he he typed in his number, Jonghyun’s cheeks reddening at his gaze.  Minhyun quickly averted his gaze at this, feeling embarrassed himself. 

“Here you go.”  Jonghyun was holding his phone out to him, and Minhyun snatched it back, fingers grazing Jonghyun’s.  His touch was hot and send electric zings through Minhyun’s blood, making his whole hand feel tingly.  Jonghyun stood there as he tapped out a message, jolting as his phone buzzed in his back pocket.  He slid it out, smiling as he read the message, before looking up at Minhyun curiously.

“I was just making sure you didn’t give me a fake number.”  Minhyun said with a eloquent shrug.  Jonghyun’s eyes crinkled at the corners.  “Why would I do that?”  Minhyun shrugged.  “People do.”  He bit back the;  _ only the people I really care about do that, what a funny twist of fate isn’t that?  People fall head over heels for me, but whenever I find one that I consider doing the same for-it’s never them.  I’m never the one for them. _

Jonghyun smiled sadly, Minhyun peeking down at him from under his hair.  “Thank you for the drink by the way.”  He added, recalling the memory vividly.  The sunlight dappling across his skin, the haziness in which he had awoken, the bottle lying on the ground.  He had drunk it all in a single go, almost choking but feeling much better in the span of an hour.  He had considered skipping school, but it had been only him in the empty house with his phone ringing continuously no matter how many times he hit ignore.  It might also have something to do with Jonghyun’s scandalized expression, but he wouldn’t admit to that.

“I’m glad it came in useful for once.”  Jonghyun joked, and he shook his head, hair falling across his face in neater bangs.  Minki had always complained about how he couldn’t look perfect by just flipping his hair like he claimed Minhyun could, how he had to work hard with lots of styling.  Minhyun remembered the day he had cut his hair, handing Dongho the scissors and saying he trusted him to make him look ‘more beautiful than Beyonce’.   That was one of the few times Minhyun had seen Dongho act completely serious, eyes narrowed in concentration as he snipped, touch light and gentle.

“I’ll be going.”  Jonghyun said, shifting awkwardly.  Minhyun nodded, realizing how cold he was, the concrete making his feet go numb through his thin socks.  “Stay warm.”  He said by way of farewell, noting that Jonghyun was dressed in a somewhat similar attire to him and had to be freezing, especially with the wind on the highway.  Minhyun had rode the highway on his motorcycle many times in winter, the shocking cold freezing the tears on his cheeks and numbing his soul.

“I will.”  Jonghyun said with another one of his funny, cute smiles.  “See you at school tomorrow.”  Minhyun added, and this time, it was a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh I am way more invested in 2hyun than most of the other ships-them, Samhwi, and Jinseop are the ships I like writing the most I have to admit. Sorry the Cube Chicks aren't getting what they deserve from me T-T  
> ALSO: If you like Stray Kids, I'm running a prompt collection challenge for them (it's on my page) and I would like it if you signed up or at least submitted a prompt for it please and thank you!


	10. Part G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))))))))  
> And I'm back~~~two long sections yay!  
> (thanks for 40+ subscriptions)

_ Woojin _

“What an interesting sketchbook you have.”  Woojin said, rifling through the pages of Jinyoung’s handheld sketchbook.  Jinyoung lunged at him, but Woojin kicked him back, foot connecting directly with his ribcage.  He knew he had quite an audience, students crowding around the hallway to see what the big commotion was.  It wasn’t anything new to them, to see Woojin acting like this, or for Jinyoung to be his victim.  He made it too easy, really.

“Give it back.”  Jinyoung said through gritted teeth, wiping away blood from the corner of his mouth.  That would have concerned Woojin, but he had seen enough blood to last a lifetime.  Blood gave you scars which made you strong.  Woojin had lost track of the number of scars he had a long time ago, and he always had new ones, carved into his skin with blades and belts and hot kisses.

“Yah, what are you doing?!”  Jihoon had appeared, eyes burning, hand latching onto Woojin’s wrist.  His touch was icy hot, the other hand ripping the sketchbook from his hand.  A few papers fluttered loose, one being the sketch that had set Woojin off in the first place-the one of Jihoon, face cocked like a puppy, lips tilted into a grin.  It wasn’t a face Woojin had seen before, but it was obviously one that couldn’t be imagined.  It was something you had to have seen face to face.

Woojin wasn’t jealous, but he was scared.  He might not be exactly in love with Jihoon, but he didn’t want to lose him to someone like Jinyoung.  But now, seeing Jihoon’s face, the paper falling to the floor, he saw that it was too late.  He let Jihoon drag him away, through the crowds of students with a growl.  He didn’t know if Jinyoung picked himself up or lay there, the crowd closing behind them as Jihoon turned the corner.

The wall was hard as Jihoon slammed him into it, wrist twisting.  Woojin jerked his arm free, shaking out his hand.  “What?”  He snapped, straightening his shoulders.  Jihoon hissed at him.  “What was that for?”  “You should be the one answering that question.”  Woojin replied, avoiding his eyes.  They were different, the anger directed at him this time.  He hadn’t done anything.

“Why do you keep bothering Jinyoung?”  Jihoon asked instead, avoiding his question.  “Since when did you care?”  Woojin shot back.  Jihoon sighed, stepping back and running his fingers through his hair.  “Just stop it, Woojin.”  He was acting like he knew something Woojin didn’t, like he was that much older and mature than him.

Woojin stared at him.  “You know, I thought you were like me, Jihoon.”  He started.  “I thought you understood me.”  He paused, biting back tears, upset at himself for even considering crying over something as petty and stupid as this.  “But you’re not, and I was stupid to think you were.”  He rubbed at his eyes with his hoodie sleeves, shoving past Jihoon, preparing to leave.

Jihoon caught his arm.  “What do you mean?”  He asked, a hint of desperation showing.  Woojin removed his hand gently, heart softening a bit.  “It was nice while it lasted.”  He said softly.  “Of course it was, but at this point I need you more than you need me, and this...this can’t go on any longer.”  He walked away again, but this time Jihoon didn’t stop instead, instead screaming; “What do you mean?!”  Again, it echoing down the hallway as Woojin broke into a run, flinging tears from his eyes, wanting to feel pain and forget it all.

He crashed into the wall at the edge of the school line, brick scraping against his skin.  Slumping to the ground, Woojin buried his face in his knees, taking in deep shaky breathes.  He  hated himself for relying this much on Jihoon, for being stupid enough to end it because of someone like Jinyoung, for crying over something that had been less than a crush and more like casual kissing.  

Everything about them had been poison, and, like Woojin had expected, they had finally fallen, except Jihoon had let go at the last moment because he wanted to surprise and at that moment, Woojin had already lost his footing.  So now his sobs tapered to a stop, until all that was left was dry eyes and wet cheeks, the knees of his jeans damp.

“Are you okay?”  It was Hyungseop again, leaning over the wall, chin propped on his arms.  School had let out a while ago, and Woojin wondered why he was still there.  “I’m fine.”  Woojin said, but it was too quick.  He was used to answering evasively, but this time he’d slipped up.  He hadn’t measured it enough, enough to make it seem like it was actually fine when it wasn’t.  It  _ wasn’t _ fine.

Hyungseop half smiled.  “I can see right through you, you know.”  He said quietly.  Woojin stiffened, standing to face him.  “Why do you keep bothering me?”  He asked sharply, brushing off his jeans.  Hyungseop shrugged.  “I've’ never met someone as interesting as you.”  “Didn’t your Language Arts teacher ever hit you for using the word interesting to describe?”  Woojin snapped in reply.  Hyungseop smiled prettily, shrugging his narrow shoulders.

“I said interesting because you can take what you want from it.”  He smiled slyly, reminding Woojin of one of those smart bunnies that everyone thought was stupid, except everyone knew Hyungseop was smart and one to not be messed with.  Woojin eyed him, scrambling up the brick wall so he was sitting on it.  Hyungseop stepped backwards, looking up at him.  

“Are you coming down, or are you going to sit up there all day?”  He asked, indifferent, face upturned.  Sun slanted across his face, flashing the delicate patterns of falling leaves across it.  The rotating pattern made it hard to concentrate on any one feature, a kaleidoscope.  It made Woojin want to look at him more, until it all became one sunlit blur sprinkled with shadows.

“Depends.”  Woojin said, swinging his legs to give himself enough momentum to jump.  He didn’t, letting his legs slow and leaning back on the narrow edge.  Hyungseop started.  “Be careful.”  He said urgently.  “You might fall.”  “I won’t.”  Woojin responded, smiling at him.  “Don’t be so skittish.  Everyone’s practically already gone.”  Hyungseop shifted.  “You could just leave, too.”  Woojin offered.  Hyungseop stayed, leaning against a lamppost across from him.  

“So, what’s this about seeing right through me?”  Woojin continued, remembering one of the first things Hyungseop had said to him.  Hyungseop looked up.  “I can.”  He replied.  “Doesn’t mean I’m like you.”  He added, at Woojin’s expression, as if he knew Woojin had been about to guess that.  “In theory, we are actually very similar, but in reality, we are both quite different from each other.”

Woojin yawned, looking up through stark tree branches to the colors spreading across the sky as the sun set.  “But…”  Hyungseop seemed to be considering his next words, Woojin glancing down at him from under his eyelashes.  Shaking himself, Hyungseop started over.  “I was taught to observe people, therefore I could learn their weaknesses and overcome them when I needed to.”  He cut his gaze to Woojin, eyes slitted like a cats.  “It’s how I survive.”  He shrugged, a short pause falling.

“Usually I can tell who people are right away, what mask they’ve put on, why they act the way they do-”  Woojin interrupted him.  “Do you want to be a psychologist or something?”  Hyungseop stopped and considered the idea.  “Maybe.”  He said finally.  “Anyways, usually I can pin somebody down the first day.  You were easy at first-the big bad wolf, or bully, Jihoon’s sidekick, doing his dirty work..”  Hyungseop sighed.  “But then I looked closer and it was hard to tell what were the lies and what was truth layered on, because everything I saw was contradictory to how you acted.”

Woojin blinked.  “How is how I acted and what you saw different from each other?”  Hyungseop smiled.  “Will you get down first so we can have an actual conversation?”  “We’re already having a conversation.”  Woojin pointed out, but he slowly swung himself to the ground, brick scraping against his back.  He walked over to Hyungseop, sitting down next to him on the bench.

“How you act is your actions, what you do, what I see is your eyes, your heartbeat,”  Hyungseop leaned in close.  “Your breathing.”  Woojin scooted over on the bench, laughing to ease the tension he could feel building.  “You can’t see someone’s heartbeat.”  He said, making an effort to try and smile.  Hyungseop shook his head sadly.  “You could at least try to understand what I mean.”  And Woojin maybe got it, that maybe Hyungseop was as good of a liar as Woojin was.   _ By now, lies were all he had, the web he had crafted beneath what people saw, what only his eyes betrayed. _

“You’re a very good liar, Park Woojin.”  Hyungseop said, as if he had known what Woojin was thinking.  Woojin shrugged, slouching down with his hands in the pockets of his black zip up hoodie.  “And, apparently, you can see right through them.”  Hyungseop shook his eyes.  “Not yours.”  He whispered softly.  “I have no idea if you’ve ever told the truth, any single time we’ve talked.  That’s why I kept talking to you.”  He was too close again, hand inches from Woojin, fingers reaching out almost.  What he said next was almost a whisper, and Woojin didn’t think he was meant to hear it, but he did.  “Everything I want, you hold in your hands.”  Woojin wondered if it was from a poem, or a song, or a book.  It sounded like an excerpt from something Hyungseop had read, or heard.  He seemed like the type to recite words like that.

“You were there, right?”  Hyungseop asked, leaning his head against Woojin’s shoulder.  Woojin tensed, but relaxed soon enough, a hand reaching up tentatively to touch Hyungseop’s hair.  It was soft and black, and smelled like a soapy conditioner.  He nodded, and Hyungseop moved slightly, so he was looking up at him.  “You know, there are more than you think who hold scars like that.”  Woojin glanced at him emotionlessly, but didn’t say anything.

Hyungseop stood as the bus pulled up.  “The only difference between you and them is you’re used to new scars, and you’re good at hiding them-but other people,”  He sighed heavily.  “Not everyone is as strong as you.”  He boarded the bus slowly, and Woojin noticed how his pace was slightly uneven, as if one of his legs was paining him.

Nobody had ever told him that his scars made him strong.

 

_ Daniel _

“You’re a pretty good dancer.”  Daniel said as Seongwoo flopped down on the gym floor, dripping in sweat.  “Is it for the competition?”  He added casually.  Seongwoo glared at him through cracked eyelids.  “If it was, I wouldn’t tell you.”  Daniel laughed.  “Come on, it’s not like I’m participating anyways.”

They were in the gym for their last detention, except they had finished cleaning ages ago and Daniel had put in his earbuds to try and concentrate on his stances while Seongwoo had gotten out the old speaker and set it up on the opposite side.  It was crackly, playing the song through what seemed like a thin wall of static, which didn’t seem to annoy Seongwoo, but greatly bothered Daniel until he had his music up to the top notch and was probably making himself deaf.

Eventually Seongwoo had stopped it and flopped down on the floor, in the position he was now, and Daniel had come over.  He could have pretended like he hadn’t been watching Seongwoo’s movements, but that would give away the chance to point out his weak points, what he was doing wrong.  

“You’re dragging your feet when you turn.  And you need to decide if your movements are loose or confined, because you keep slipping up into different forms of dance.”  Daniel said, stopping Seongwoo from saying whatever he had been meaning to when he opened his mouth.  “I know that.  It’s what I’ve been working on.”  Seongwoo said, glaring more.

Daniel shrugged.  “Then you should be making progress.”  Seongwoo huffed angrily, but didn’t retort back for awhile, deep in thought it seemed.  Finally, after Daniel had turned to examining his nails, Seongwoo said; “If you know so much about dance, why aren’t you doing the competition?”  Daniel smiled wistfully, remembering the earlier years when his father had taken his hands and guided him through steps, Daniel balancing on the tops of his shoes and shrieking with laughter.  Over time he had evolved from ballroom dances and old fashioned American dances like the hustle to more modern steps, hip hop and bboying until his head spun.  He built the ability to choreograph on top of bboying, until his father had passed and his mother turned her head and worked the long shifts, leaving thirteen year old Daniel in charge of his ten year old sister every day.  He remembered the first time his mother had come home drunk.  It hadn’t been a pleasant night.  He remembered the loan sharks too, how Hyerin had screamed when they’d pulled her forward by her hair.

Soon, hitting things had been easier than avoiding them.  With boxing, there was someone who saw his potential and taught him how to fight.  Fight against everything, even the impossible world.   _ Live in the moment and life you have been given.  Do not wish for more.   _ His mother’s words repeated in his head.

“I have a huge boxing match on that day.”  Daniel responded, examining his nails again.  He didn’t want to look Seongwoo in his eyes for some reason, feeling like he would see disappointment or sadness maybe.  He didn’t like feeling see through.  Boxing was his life.  He lived and breathed it.  Seongwoo couldn’t possibly understand that it was his saving grace, what it was worth to him.

Seongwoo sighed, shaking his head in mock sadness.  “Is boxing the only thing you do?”  Daniel nodded.  “Besides school, anyways.”  Seongwoo raised an eyebrow.  “Like, ever?  Don’t you hang out with friends or something?”  Daniel shook his head.  “I don’t have any friends.”  Seongwoo blinked, at a loss for words.  “But you’re so popular…”  His voice trailed off at Daniel’s hard stare.

“A lot of people like me, but they won’t be my friend.”  Daniel explained, not adding in that he pushed everyone away.  The only ones he really talked to were his fellow classmates at his bus stop, kind of because he had to, and also because it was interesting, and now...now Seongwoo too.  It was weird, but he’d probably talked to Seongwoo the most in the past week.  From enemies...to enemies with a truce...to-to something else that was close to friendship, maybe?  He hadn’t had a friend before, so he didn’t really know.

“That’s depressing.”  Seongwoo remarked, yawning.  He sat up, rubbing his hair.  “I want a shower.”  He moaned, a simple thing to say, but it made Daniel smile.  It had been a while since he had had a hot shower, water and heat bill conservation, and also because cold showers had frozen the emotions away-the anger and pain he had spent on the punching bags passing as the water ran down his body.

“Are you going to leave?”  Seongwoo asked, standing up and stretching.  Daniel started, momentarily forgetting that Seongwoo was talking to him.  “Probably.”  He responded.  Seongwoo sighed in relief.  “Good.  I don’t want to ride the bus alone.”  Daniel blinked at him.  “Why not?”  He asked, pulling on his discarded gray hoodie.  Seongwoo shrugged.  “My phone’s dead, and I can’t sit without doing anything.”

“Do homework.”  Daniel suggested, a tinge of irritability slipping into his voice.  Seongwoo groaned, and then his arm had wrapped around Daniel’s arm, pulling him towards the door.  Daniel could have easily shaken him off, but there was something comforting about his hand gripping him, a reassurance.  Daniel hadn’t allowed himself to become close enough for someone to touch him in a long time, besides his sister and mother.  Scratch that, only his sister, as his mother was technically his stepmother.  Hyerin was also technically his half sister, but Daniel had spent his whole life watching her and making sure she was safe that it was almost impossible to admit they weren’t blood related.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he stopped hating Seongwoo, maybe it had been before this, maybe it had been the first time he had seen him outside of the school environment.  They were different outside of what they put on to act tough.  It had been at the park, a fuzzy memory since Daniel had left quickly upon arrival, but still there.  Seongwoo had been laughing, with Jisung and Jaehwan and Sungwoon and whoever else he hung out with.

It had been summer, and the grass was green and freshly cut, sticking to his bare feet.  The sound of cicadas chirping filled the air, along with the steady bounce of Daniel’s basketball against the pavement.  Samuel was supposed to have met him there, but he had bailed last moment to do something with Guanlin, probably something that was close to illegal that Jonghyun would definitely not approve of.  Daniel didn’t mind, it only meant that he would have to play alone.  He had never minded being alone.

Seongwoo and his friends had been sitting on the sidelines, against the chain link fence, not paying attention to the court, just talking in their loud voice and laughing raucously.  Daniel wondered if they were drunk.  He made ten baskets straight, moving onto his eleventh when Seongwoo called; “Yah, Kang Daniel!”  Daniel stopped in annoyance, turning to face him as he caught the ball under one arm.  

“Do you play basketball now too?”  Seongwoo asked, wrapping his fingers around the metal of the fence to keep from falling forward as he leaned in too close.  Daniel nodded.  “For fun.”  He added, a silent  _ when I have time  _ behind the words.  Seongwoo nodded, walking over to him and motioning for him to toss him the ball.  Daniel curled his arm around it tighter.  He doubted Seongwoo could play basketball, and he also doubted he wanted to play it.

Seongwoo huffed.  “Fine.  Be like that.”  Daniel glared at him.  “What do you want?”  Seongwoo shrugged.  “I don’t know.”  Daniel rolled his eyes.  “Then stop bothering me and let me play.”  “No.”  Seongwoo said childishly, sticking out his bottom lip.  It would have looked cute if he was, say, Jihoon, if Jihoon ever acted cute, for example, but Seongwoo did not work it.

He had turned away after that, and Daniel had prepared to play again, but a phone call had stopped him.  When he had walked past them, Seongwoo had thrown the remainder of his drink at him.  Daniel had sidestepped it without looking at him, heading home and trying to push the strange encounter from his mind.

Now they were sitting side by side on the bus, and Seongwoo was nodding off to sleep against his shoulder, but Daniel couldn’t bring himself to move or wake him.  He let his own head sink down on stop of his.  It occurred to him that he didn’t know what stop Seongwoo was going to get off at, but he figured it would be okay either way.  It was better to let him sleep than senselessly wake him up.

He must have nodded off too, because the bus had stopped and the bus driver was shaking them awake.  “You have to get off, kid.”  He said.  Daniel sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking around sleepily.  He was surprised to find the seat next to him empty, the sky outside dark.  He nodded, stumbling down the aisle and off the bus.  It was cold, and he was pretty sure he was lost.  Thankfully, his phone still had charge.

Past the numerous missed calls from Hyerin, there was a new number in his phone.  The contact name was simply  _ ‘Ong’. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And readers wonder why does Ongniel suddenly not hate each other anymore? I have no answer--ask my mind.  
> I was considering publishing another story on here but I have like nothing and no one shots either that I like/have written enough on, besides I'm doing the Justice League prompt challenge...  
> (promotion: go check out Target's debut song Awake I love it <3)


	11. Part H

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day late again because this week was super busy---(I SAW ASTRO ON WEDNESDAY!!!!!!!!!!)(from p4 in the back of the back but it's okay Moonbin was beautiful) and thrown together really quickly.  
> Cute Samhwi though :))))))))) Hopefully it's not too short~~~~

_ Daehwi _

“Mom, I have something to tell you.”  Daehwi straightened his shoulders and set down his chopsticks, hoping he looking every bit like the responsible, grown up, and mature son.  She looked up, closing the magazine and neatening the edge with her fingers, placing it beside her.  Every motion felt slow and deliberate.

“What is it?”  She asked, eyeing him as if she knew it was something that she was not going to like.  Daehwi took a deep breath.  “I signed up for that competition I told you about earlier.”  His mother froze.  Her chopsticks clattered onto her plate, her face freezing over and paling.  

“Lee Daehwi!”  Her voice was sharp and commanding, but her hands were shaking badly.  Daehwi swallowed.  He felt terrible for doing this to her, for throwing this at her as an exploding bomb, but- “Mom, I want to be on stage again.”  He confessed quietly.  “I know, I know you think I can’t do this, but I can.  I’m stronger than you think, and so is my leg.”  He said imploringly.

His mother sighed heavily.  “Daehwi, that is not the only thing I am concerned about.  You remember what is was like at your old school, those kids-”  Daehwi swallowed against his dry throat.  “I do remember Mom, but unlike you I’ve been able to get over it!  It’s been months, and I’ve grown and overcome it, so why can’t you?”  More than half of that was a lie, he was hardly over what he had endured in America, but he hadn’t had a relapse in a while.  A part of him thought that maybe it was Samuel, something he could concentrate on, someone he felt like he couldn’t let on.

His mother’s lip was trembling as Daehwi took in heaving breaths, searching for air.  He was an awful son, for blowing up at his mother this much recently, over stupid things like competitions and boys.  But.  But he wanted to do this.  “Why won’t you listen to me?”  His mother said between sobs.  It felt like there was a rock in Daehwi’s stomach, growing heavier with every tear.

“Sorry, mom.”  He whispered, but he wasn’t sure if she could hear him over her crying.  “But I want to do this.  I need to overcome on my own, not because you treat me like a baby.”  He turned and walked up the stairs, slowly and calmly this time, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible.  He walked over to his bed in his socks, feet sinking into the soft carpet, before flopping face first on it.  His face had become quite acquainted with his bedspread recently.

The rock hitting his window was a sound he had become accustomed to, practices evolving into late night talks with Samuel.  Standing up, Daehwi flung open the window.  The chill washed over his bare arms and face, goosebumps springing up on his arms.  Samuel was standing below him this time, bundled up in a giant parka that only showed his face and a couple stray wisps of lavender blonde hair.

“Daehwi, Daehwi, let down your hair!”  He called as quietly as possible in the now nine o’clock air.  Daehwi mustered a smile.  “Sorry, Juliet has sadly decided it’s time for a pixie cut.”  He called, shaking out his bangs.  Samuel huffed, and Daehwi could see his breath floating up.  “Then would it be too much to ask him to come down and go on a moonlight stroll with me?”  Daehwi cast a glance at the moon, covered by clouds.

“You know, traditionally Juliet is a her.”  He added, checking to make sure his door was locked.  “Well, I’m assuming Juliet needs a distraction right now.”  Samuel added, examining his gloves.  Daehwi frowned.  “Romeo better catch me.”  He threatened, swinging a leg over the side of his window.  It wasn’t a long jump, ten or so feet, probably less.  He was bad at estimating heights.

“Of course-”  Samuel was cut off by Daehwi dropping on him, making them both stumble backward.  Samuel nearly fell, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.  “You should have put on a coat at least.”  He said in an amused tone, straightening him.  Daehwi blushed, hugging himself.  He could hardly feel the cold anymore, heat shooting up him from where Samuel had touched him.

“Now, what’s this moonlight walk I was promised?”  He asked, but it didn’t sound as casual as he would have liked.  Samuel smiled, cheeks rosy red from the cold and eyes bright.  “It’s not as romantic as you might think.”  He said with a chuckle, slipping his arm through Daehwi’s.  It would have been normal if they were a pair of schoolgirls who were giggly best friends, but they were barely friends.  Well, maybe friends by now, or at least neighbors.

Daehwi half expected Samuel to entwince their hands too, but he left their elbows hooked together and did no more.  They walked down their street faster than the others, Daehwi and Samuel both paranoid their mothers would walk out the door and yell at them ‘to get back here right now!’.  

Finally, Samuel stopped, but it was only to shrug off his parka.  He threw part of it around Daehwi’s shoulder.  “Put your arm through it.”  He instructed, and Daehwi obeyed.  Samuel put his arm through the other, and suddenly they were pressed against each other without a breath of space to spare.  

“Are you warmer now?”  Samuel’s breath smelled like mint, and Daehwi wondered if he had been chewing gum.  Daehwi nodded, voice coming out as a squeak when he said; “Definitely.”  Samuel chuckled.  “You should have worn a coat, idiot.”  Daehwi elbowed him in the side indignantly, but he couldn’t really feel insulted, not with their bodies pressed against each others.

They stopped in front of a playground, an old one with rusting swings and a wet slide.  Despite the rundown condition of it, Daehwi couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia at the sight of it.  It brought back memories of when he was a child, chubby arms waving in the air as his father stood at the end, arms out and ready to catch him.  The cycle had repeated itself numerous days, until he had been too old to play with the other kids.

Samuel walked over to the swings, Daehwi having no choice but to follow him as they were literally attached to each other.  As he walked past, he trailed his fingers over the monkey bars.  They came away damp and cold from the melted snow, the metal stinging his fingers.  “Hmm.”  Samuel said, surveying the two swings, and the single smushed body they were.  “I think we’ll fit.”  

Daehwi highly doubted that, but he let Samuel struggle to make the too small swing fit their width.  Eventually, it ended up with them awkwardly half sitting on top of each other, pushed even closer together.  It was strangely comfortable, even as there was a struggle to push them back and forth.  It felt a bit dangerous, like he could fly off at any moment and go soaring, their shadows skimming over the ground and the metal structure creaked above them.

“You’re holding on tight, right?”  Samuel checked as they soared higher, feet barely brushing the ground.  Daehwi had his hands tightly wrapped around Samuel’s shirt, keeping them pressed together ‘for safety’.  Samuel let out a sigh.  “I go here sometimes, at night.”  He paused, looking upward.  “There’s an amazing view of the sky up here.” 

Daehwi tilted his head up to look too as they slowed down to a stop.  The sky was speckled with more stars than he had ever seen in one place, not in America, not in Seoul here.  The air pollution made it hard to see them on normal nights, but it was peculiarly clear tonight.  “It’s beautiful.”  He whispered, jolting a bit as his feet bumped across the ground.

Samuel made an ‘mmm-hmm’ sound, and Daehwi felt his hand move across his back, to the small of it.  He tried to prevent shivers from going up his spine, sure Samuel would feel them.  Samuel murmured something, but Daehwi was too busy looking at the stars that he only caught what sounded like;  _ Not as beautiful as you. _

When he looked over at Samuel quizzically, he was leaning in, face tilted.  Daehwi froze, waiting-and his phone rang.  Jerking back like he was on fire, Daehwi flailed his way out of the coat and stumbled across the ground.  He managed to pull his phone out in the flurry of panic and mixed emotions, seeing it was his mom.  He had forgotten he had brought it with them, that he hadn’t turned it off and left it.

“I….I need to go, I think.”  Daehwi mumbled, combing his fingers through his hair.  Samuel nodded, pulling the half of the coat he had abandoned across his shoulders.  “I’ll walk you.”  He said immediately, but Daehwi shook his head.  “It’s okay, you can continue stargazing.  I prefer walking alone, anyways.”  He realized that the whole dialogue could come off as sarcastic, but it was too late to take them back, and he didn’t want to stumble over his words anymore than he already did.

At a loss for words, Samuel nodded slowly.  Nodding, Daehwi backed up a couple steps.  “Um…”  He paused, then ran forward and kissed Samuel on the cheek.  When he stepped back, Samuel was standing there, looking lost and confused.  Daehwi’s mouth suddenly felt dry, so he only ducked his head and ran away, hoping he hadn’t messed it all up.

 

_ Samuel  _

It was a reminder blaring Bang Bang Bang that finally woke Samuel, a quarter to noon.  He groggily rummaged around for his phone, finding it on the floor.  He sat up, trying to stop the blaring, seeing everything he had missed.  At the top, a bright winking reminder for noon.   _!!Demos with Daehwi :)!! _

“Oh my-”  Samuel bolted out of bed, throwing his phone on the bed he had left rumpled behind him.  It was still playing the song, but it fueled him to move even faster.  Where had they agreed to meet again?  Oh right, the studio his friend worked at and had gotten him a key and free access to.  Were they going to walk together?  The question answered itself again as the details returned, no, they would meet there separately.

Samuel checked the time again.  Ten minutes until noon.  He would take the bike and hope he didn’t get crushed in traffic like his mother was always worried about it.  Speeding down the steps, he grabbed a piece of toast and shoved it in his mouth, nearly choking as he tied his laces sloppily.  Hopefully they wouldn’t come untied and get caught in the wheels, which had happened once in sixth grade.  He had come home with skinned elbows and knees, as well as a shiny cast his classmates had quickly defaced.

His mother’s car wasn't in the driveway, even though it was Saturday, she must have had work.  Samuel ran into the garage, finding his bike in the back covered in several layers of dust.  He wiped it off, checking the tires and discovering that they were thankfully  _ not _ flat, as he had been expecting.  Wheeling it out in the open, he took off at a running start, jumping on it.  For a second it teetered, but soon he was smoothly rolling down the street and around the corner, down the hill.

Five minutes later, after skidding through traffic and pedestrians, he was in front of the studio.  It still looked to be dark, but as he got closer he saw a silver head in the shadows.  Approaching Daehwi, Samuel pulled out the key from his pocket.  “Ready?”  He asked, pulling up in front of him.  Daehwi started, shoving his phone into his pocket and nodding.  

Samuel was happy to note that this time he was wearing a dark blue hoodie with a golden eagle on it, slouching into it.  His hair was messed adorably, Samuel smiling as Daehwi yawned, looking like a baby bird that had just left their nest.  “Did you just wake up too?”  Samuel asked.  Daehwi nodded, rubbing at his eyes.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to use this?”  He checked as Samuel inserted the key, flipping on the lights as they entered.  Samuel nodded.  “Yeah.  They’re not coming until evening, so we have the whole afternoon.”  He paused.  “You do have all your stuff ready, right?”  Stuff meant his lyrics and song and the music on a hard drive Samuel could use when they recorded.

“Do you?”  Daehwi responded boldly and Samuel laughed, holding up the sleek silver drive in his hand.  Daehwi held up his own, black, and Samuel’s cheek burned, remembering the imprint of his lips.   _ Get yourself together.  That was two days ago.   _

He led the way up the steps, to the first recording room he stumbled around.  It was completely empty and neat, like nobody had used it in several days.  It would be a pain to put back together, but he doubted Daehwi was someone who made messes out of everything.  He powered on the electricity, tuning the board and unlocking the door to the studio with a key hanging on a hook by it.

“You want to go first right?”  He realized he hadn’t already asked as he said it, and for a second Daehwi looked paralyzed, but then he nodded numbly.  “I mean, you don’t have to.”  Samuel added quickly, seeing his expression.  Daehwi shook his head, shivering and burrowing into his sweatshirt more.  It was cold, like the ac was on.  

“No, I like getting things over with quickly.”  Samuel nodded, motioning to the door.  “Ready whenever you are.  You can warm up your voice if you want, I won’t judge.”  Daehwi smiled, but he still went outside to do so.  Samuel could hear faint notes drifting through the door, but couldn’t get a good impression on his voice.

A few minutes later he came back inside, cheeks flushed, looking considerably more awake.  “I’m ready.”  Samuel noticed he was rocking on his heels lightly back and forth, another nervous habit he added to his mental list of things he knew about Daehwi.  He turned and plugged in the hard drive, preparing to play the music.

In the recording studio, Daehwi slid on the headphones and adjusted himself so that the mic could hear his voice clearly.  “1, 2, 3, testing, testing... “  He whispered into the mic, voice loud and clear.  Samuel gave him the a-okay sign, nodding.  He pressed play on the music, and Daehwi began to record.

His voice was beautiful.  Samuel had to control himself and focus on the music, but his insides were slowly melting.  He didn’t even realize Daehwi had finished, still shook to the core, until Daehwi tapped on the glass.  Glancing upward, Samuel nodded and hurriedly shut off the recording.

Daehwi exited the booth, grinning widely.  “Did I sound okay?”  He asked, ruffling his hair.  Samuel managed a nod, swallowing.  “You’re voice is amazing.”  He whispered, and Daehwi blushed, covering his eyes with his sweater paws.  “Stop.”  He said, a laugh threatening his words.  Samuel wanted to hug him, hold him close, but he restrained himself, though the kiss...if that was it...was burned into his memory.

“You’re turn.”  Daehwi said, shoving him off playfully.  He seemed less nervous, happier now that it was over with and Samuel had complimented him.  Maybe all he had needed was a compliment boost.  Lee Daehwi sure was a weird kid, a weirdness that had made Samuel shy away from him and then want to be closer all at once.

He entered the studio, fingers creasing the edge of the paper over and over again.  Suddenly he felt nervous, that he would mess up his vocals or his rap and it would be a waste and he would have to go again only to fail repeatedly.  He slid the headphones on, trying to stop his hands from shaking, holding the paper up in front of him.  Samuel had made sure to keep his handwriting neat.

“Ready?”  Daehwi’s voice echoed in his ears.  Samuel nodded, hearing his track rush into action.  At the last minute, he threw the lyrics on the floor and did it from memory.  It was easier that way-he wasn’t going to have lyrics at the show anyways.   _ If you make it to the show.   _ He quelled the voice, slowing down his voice so it would match the beat.  He had produced the track, Eye Candy, himself, with some help of course, but mostly on his own.  He was sure it sounded horrible, but if he refined it some it could be good.  Right now it would have to do.

“Done!”  Daehwi cheered, and Samuel nearly fell backward.  He ripped off the headphones and took up his lyrics, falling out the door and onto the couch.  “I feel dead.”  He groaned, voice muffled by the cushions.  Daehwi laughed, coming over and falling on top of him.  Samuel resisted the urge to catapult into the air to regain his self-esteem, comforting warmth settling over him.

“People should be coming soon.  We need to get the recordings and leave.”  Samuel mumbled after a few seconds, and he heard Daehwi reluctantly sigh and roll off him.  “You’re like a heater though.”  He said, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.  “Sometimes the heater breaks.”  Samuel said cheerfully, tightening his shoelaces.

He grabbed the hard drives, tossing Daehwi his, and pocketing the black one that was his own.  Daehwi followed him out the door silently, hopping from foot to foot absently while he locked the door.  Samuel straightened and tucked the key away, leading the way down the hallway.  A clock on the wall told him two hours had passed, a long amount of time but a short one all the same.

“I have to be home soon.”  Daehwi mumbled, also noticing the clock.  “Do you need a ride back?  I could call a taxi.”  He said, already pulling out his phone.  Samuel shook his head.  “I rode my bike.”  He wrinkled his nose in distaste.  “If you want to get home faster, you could catch a ride on the back.  You’re light, I’m sure it would work.”  Daehwi side eyed him nervously.

“Um...I’m not sure about that…”  He said quietly, but Samuel had slung an arm around him and dragged him down towards where he had parked his bike.  “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine!”  He said with more enthusiasm than Daehwi.  Daehwi let a grin spread over his face.  “As long as I don’t have to ride on your handlebars like the girls in the kdramas.”  He said playfully.

Samuel scoffed.  “Please, this will be much less romantic.”  He tossed his hair with dramatic flair as he popped the kickstand, righting the bike fully for take off.  He got on, scooting forward and motioning for Daehwi to board behind him.  He did, balancing precariously and immediately wrapping his arms protectively around Samuel’s waist.

“Let’s go!”  Samuel swerved into the street, trying to adjust to the added weight as Daehwi screamed in his ear as they narrowly missed getting hit by a car.  “I swear, if we die because of this Kim Samuel, you are dead-!”  Samuel laughed, remembering the helmets left at home, and hoped it didn’t occur to Daehwi that they should probably be wearing helmets.

It was harrowing, and exhilarating all in one.  Daehwi’s arms around his waist like this was a bad quality movie, cursing him out the entire ride.  The ride, which involved several close run ins and almost accidents, was quick and dangerous.  Just like his life.  When they reached his house, Daehwi shakily slid free, grabbing Samuel’s arm to stop his trembling knees.

“Were you trying to kill me?”  He asked breathlessly, placing his free hand against his heart and letting out several deep breaths.  Samuel smiled.  “Ready to let go of my arm yet?”  He joked, but Daehwi leaped away as if his arm was burning hot lava.  He was blushing furiously, something he seemed.

Samuel blew out a breath.  “Uh, see you on Monday then.”  He said cautiously, and Daehwi nodded, then sprinted off to his house and banged in the front door, disappearing from sight.  Samuel watched him go, befuddled.  In the end, though, he smiled.  It was impossible not to, being around Lee Daehwi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending is a mess---anyways I'm trying to move things along though I feel like this is a very slow burn that hits an occasional bump and something weird happens *sweats*  
> I try :;(


	12. Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back!!!! It's been a little over a month and a half since I went on hiatus. (Btw, I deleted the chapter so newcomers can just read through, so don't be alarmed >.>) I did get some (ish) writing done, but mostly it was nice to be able to finish up my Justice League fic (yay, it's done!) and concentrate on schoolwork. Spring Break is starting, so I have a little time also.  
> I'm not going to have a really set date to update, but for now it's probably going to be around two weeks (ughhhh sorry guys, but that's the best I can manage). Since I'm making you wait, I am trying to do longer (I think) chapters! *cheers*  
> The plotline is getting towards the climax, only a few chapters left~Also a reminder that this is totally unbetaed :/  
> Thank you for 3k hits!!!!!!!!

_ Jonghyun _

Jonghyun let out a breath, watching it crystallize in the cold air, hanging for a moment before dissipating.  It was colder than usual, cutting to the bone dressed as he was, in only a thin hoodie and ripped jeans. He should have dressed warmer, but he hadn’t known it was going to be this cold, or the fact that he would have to cover double shifts again.  It was his second time that week, and he had seen the money that should be in his paycheck because of that mysteriously not making it to paper.

If he didn’t need the job that badly, he would have pressed about it ages ago, but he knew it would be blow out of proportion and end with him being fired.  It was just how the industry worked. It was bitter, but the little money he earned went a long way. Half of it he put into a savings account for his mother, though she didn’t know about it.  She wouldn’t accept it if she knew it was from him-the failure of a child she had abandoned at six years old, on a park bench, leaving him to frostbite.

He still visited that park bench sometimes, just at on it and tipped his head back to look at the sky and imagine the snow falling down.  Every memory from that night was vivid, the ones when he had still been able to recall at least. Eventually he had passed out from the cold, as his mother had planned he supposed, only to be found by a jogger in the morning.   _ What a horrific story.   _ Jonghyun heard those words often, but it didn’t get him pity for long.  Soon enough he was back where he had started, struggling to get along with the scattered pieces left behind him blowing away in the end.  An untraceable path.

Right now, though, he was heading to the bus stop in hope that he hadn't missed the last bus.  There had been a time when he had had the bus schedule memorized, but eventually they had become hectic in the comings and goings, and he had eventually given up and focused on more important things.  Those important things were school, work, and himself, in that order.

As he approached the stop, he saw that he was not alone in his late night ventures.  Someone else was sitting there, earbuds in, leaning back against the glass back. His breath were puffs of hair, face framed with the golden light of a streetlight above the stop.  Legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed, as he slouched in a comfortable position. Jonghyun couldn’t help but feel transfixed, until he got closer and realized it was Minhyun, completely oblivious to his surroundings.  

“Funny seeing you here.”  Jonghyun said as he sat down next to him.  Minhyun nodded, and it occurred to Jonghyun that Minhyun probably couldn’t hear him over the music playing in his ears.  “Can I listen?” He asked, taking an earbud. Minhyun’s lips twitched at this, but he didn’t respond. Jonghyun could see now that he was sad, struggling not to cry, afraid to talk because the emotions might spill out with it.  Jonghyun had been there. The only difference was that he had learned that smiling and being happy was the only option.

The music rushed over him, soft and soothing.  It was only an instrumental, but Jonghyun could feel himself slipping away into it, caught in the waves of piano.  “It’s beautiful.” He said in a hushed voice. Minhyun muttered something in reply, but Jonghyun didn’t catch it, still transfixed with the music.

“What did you say?”  He asked, taking out the earbud.  Minhyun smiled a bit, shaking his head.  “I was talking to myself.” He responded with a slight laugh, turning away.  Jonghyun faced forward again too, the song finishing up. “Do you have any lyrics written yet?”  He asked as the last notes faded out.

Minhyun nodded, then shook his head.  “Nothing of use.” He paused. “How did you know it was mine?”  He still wasn’t meeting Jonghyun’s eyes, trying to hide the struggle of talking behind indifferential words.  Jonghyun smiled, handing him back the earbud. Minhyun took it, but didn’t put it back in. 

“Well, most people don’t listen to classical, it doesn’t sound like regular instrumental, and parts of the beat are messy.  I can help you with that.” He added, seeing Minhyun’s expression tighten. “It’s obviously a mellow, romance song.” He started, but Minhyun shook his head, expression saddening again.  

“It’s not a romance song.  It’s about missing someone.”  He said softly. Jonghyun was silent for a couple seconds, before being unable to resist arguing; “That’s still romance though.”  He said pointedly, and Minhyun took out his other earbud, facing him completely and looking him straight on, eyes sharp.

“It’s different, Jonghyun.  Missing someone does not mean you had a romantic relationship.  It’s a different emotion, different feeling, and it stays there and claws at you until--”  Minhyun broke off with a heaving breath, drawing his legs up to his chest and burying his face in it.  Jonghyun sat quietly, picking at the frayed edges around a hole in his jeans, unsure what to do about the outburst.

“I know that.”  He finally whispered.  Minhyun didn’t move, but Jonghyun knew he was listening.  “I just don’t understand why you would make a song about it.”  Minhyun lifted his head, just barely, so that his eyes appeared over the top of his knees.  “It’s your pain, why would you want people to know about that?!” He twisted the jean wisps, leaving fingernail indents in the skin covering his knee.

Minhyun was quiet.  “I guess I’m just tired of having to stay quiet for so many years.”  He said softly, fingers curling. Jonghyun reached over and took his hand without a second thought.  It was cold, so he only gripped it tighter in a futile attempt to warm them. Minhyun pulled them back, swinging his legs down.

“Sorry.”  He whispered quietly, and Jonghyun just leaned against him.  He knew that words weren’t enough, that what he was seeing was a fractured Minhyun, a vulnerable one that would be gone by morning when he woke up and realized he had let his guard down for a few short moments.  It didn’t make Jonghyun happy that he had seen something other people hadn’t, instead it made him sad.  _ So much suffering. _

“Do you want to help me with it?  I could use another set of eyes and ears.”  Minhyun asked after several precious minutes.  Jonghyun glanced up at him. “With what?” He asked.  Minhyun blushed. “The song.” He gestured at his phone, laying abandoned on the bench.  “I’m thinking of calling it Daybreak.” He confided. 

Jonghyun sat up.  “I’d like that.” His voice was a bare whisper.  Minhyun nodded, the screeching of brakes loud as the bus pulled up.  Jonghyun stood, moving towards it, when he realized that Minhyun wasn’t following him.  He turned back. “Aren’t you getting on?” He asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

Minhyun swallowed.  “Not this one.” Jonghyun blinked.  “This is the last bus though.” Minhyun shrugged.  “It’s okay.” Jonghyun wanted to press the issue, but instead he turned and got on the bus, taking a seat as it pulled away.  Minhyun watched it leave.

 

_ Guanlin _

“I know you’re mad at me.”  Seonho didn’t look up from where he was perched on a stool in front of a music stand in the far back of the music room, keeping his gaze focused on the page he had balanced on his lap.  Guanlin took a step forward, gazing up at him. “You wouldn’t answer my texts.”

“I blocked you.”  Seonho mumbled in reply, stubbornly still refusing to make eye contact.  “Oh.” Guanlin said after a moment, as if he didn’t already know that. He had been making sure it was on purpose.  Seonho must have been really made at him. Maybe Guanlin deserved that, maybe he didn’t. He didn’t get Seonho, so maybe he would never know.

“What are you still doing here?”  Seonho asked sharply, finally looking up and pinning Guanlin with an accusatory gaze.  Guanlin stepped back. “I’m signing up for the competition, if you want to know.” Seonho blinked.  “I don’t.” He responded, and Guanlin inwardly cringed. This was going to be tougher than he thought.

“And if you’re going to ask my another stupid question about why I won’t do that, I already told you the answer.”  His words were stoney, expression flat and disinterested. He was wearing those square rimmed glasses again, perched on the bridge of his nose.  Guanlin swallowed, straightening his shoulders. 

Guanlin shook his head, finding himself at a loss for words.  “I...I was just letting you know.” He mumbled after a moment, then turned and left at a slow, trudging pace.  He glanced back to see Seonho ressuming looking at his paper, but his pencil remained still and unmoving. After a moment, Guanlin left, standing outside of the door and sliding down it.  He felt terrible, slightly sick, and he wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t done anything to wrong Seonho, this was ridiculous.

He was about to leave, when the door opened behind him.  Seonho blinked at him, not looking the least bit surprised that he was still outside.  “Yah, if you really want to...I don’t know, see my talent or whatever, I’ll show you. Then will you stop bothering me?”  He scratched his head, tousling his black hair. His glasses slipped down his nose, and he pushed them back up.

Guanlin paused, then nodded.  That had been his eventual goal, or one of them.  And since Seonho was offering..well it wouldn't hurt.  He was curious, he had to admit that much. Seonho took a seat at the piano, not glancing back at him, sure he would be still there.  Guanlin was, of course, but he hated that Seonho knew how attached and puppy-like Guanlin had become.  _ How he refused to budge even knowing this. _

The sound of music floated from the piano as Seonho’s hands started moving, fingers dancing across the keys at a rapid pace as a song flowed from it, slow and sad unlike the pace he was playing.  Guanlin stared at the keys indenting and springing up, transfixed. He hadn’t remembered that Seonho played piano...no, he did.

_ The beautiful sound of piano floating through the air, like a siren’s song.  A beautiful boy that matched the music, hands moving as they created magic. Guanlin had watched from the back of the building, mouth hanging open as he watched it all unfold.  And it had come crashing down, with splintered glass and screaming. _

_ Guanlin had found him again, as if it was fate.  On the snow outside, streaks of blood marring the pure white color of it.  That had been terrifying, panic clawing at his throat as he stumbled around, lost among the wreckage and smoke filling the air. _

“Are you happy now?”  Seonho rose, cutting the song off with a jarring sound of keys being pushed violently.  Guanlin started, Seonho’s gaze piercing through him. His stomach roiled unpleasantly, knowing that Seonho had showed him the piano for a reason.  He knew Guanlin remembered-probably clearer than Seonho himself remembered, and he wanted Guanlin to finally understand that it was that.

“Yeah.  Thanks.”  Guanlin whispered, trying to find the strength to sound bold.  He had known that, and he had pushed for a reason. “You’re music...it’s amazing.”  He added, voice still soft and quiet. Seonho’s brow furrowed, as if he couldn’t figure him out.  Guanlin left the room, the memory of the music already fading from his mind even though he tried to grasp at the tendrils of it. 

Good thing Guanlin had got a recording, then.  He hoped Seonho wouldn’t mind, it was for his own good after all.

 

_ Woojin _

The music was playing so loud in his earbuds that he didn’t notice Hyungseop was besides him until he appeared in front of him, taking out one earbud gently.  He cocked his head, a slight smile gracing his lips. “Hey.” He said. Woojin could tell he was in a good mood for once, happiness shadowed by his usual seriousness.

“Why are you here?”  Woojin asked with a frown, but he felt a bit brighter too.  Hyungseop shrugged, but he looked slightly guilty. “I got detention.”  He confessed. Woojin raised an eyebrow, trying to stifle a laugh. “Why?”  Hyungseop glared at him. “You don’t need to know why.” Woojin smiled, resisting the urge to ask ‘why’ again.  He didn’t want to ruin Hyungseop’s supposedly good mood, or what was close to that.

“You’re good at dancing.”  Hyungseop remarked offhandedly, and Woojin wondered how long he had been standing there, watching him dance.  He hadn’t danced in a while, so the movements had been awkward and jerky, but he couldn’t forget the feeling, the reason why he had continued even when it was hard.

It was kind of like taking Ko Ko Bop, something he hadn’t taken in a long time-not since he and Jihoon had parted ways.  Adrenaline running through his veins, the music pulsing to his heartbeat, the feeling that he could do anything as long as he kept on moving.  That was part of the reason why Woojin had missed dancing so much. Also, part of the reason he had stayed away for so long.

“You’re not going to ask why I’m not doing the competition?”  Woojin asked cautiously, side eyeing him. Hyungseop shrugged.  “Do I really need to know that?” Woojin thought about it. “I’m just used to people talking about it-and you know...bothering me about it.”  He stuck out his tongue. 

Hyungseop grinned, settling down on the floor.  “I got in a fight.” He announced. “Since you were obviously dying to know.”  He added, whipping around to smirk at Woojin. Woojin raised an eyebrow and joined him on the floor, crossing his legs and leaning back on his arms.  “Why though?” He pressed, smiling innocently at Hyungseop’s dark expression.

“That you really don’t need to know.”  Hyungseop said, turning his face very deliberately as to not meet Woojin’s eyes.  He sighed under his breath, rubbing his hand across his face. Hyungseop always seemed to be older than the rest of them, young in his youthful features, but ancient in his eyes.  Eyes that held things he had seen and witnessed, the secrets he had kept and would keep until he died. Maybe others couldn’t see past the icey could frontier, but Woojin could.

Woojin wondered what Hyungseop saw when he looked at him.  A broken lost boy from Neverland? A violent bully like everyone else?  No, not that one-Hyungseop had made it clear he saw past Woojin’s own cover.  He hadn’t realized how badly he had needed someone who would sit and talk to him like Hyungseop was doing now, someone who would just be his friend.  He smiled to himself. He hadn’t thought the day would come that he acknowledged Ahn Hyungseop wasn’t that bad, never mind the day that he would consider him a  _ friend.   _ Maybe the only friend Woojin had at this moment in his life.

“Hmmm...you tell me something.”  Hyungseop decided, a dreamy look in his eyes as he studied the gym ceiling.  There had been a project a few years back, before Woojin had been in high school, where the artistic students had come together and painted a mural across the gym ceiling to symbolize their unitedness and some other stuff that Woojin had never bothered to learn.  As a result, their gym ceiling was a mix of sweeping colors and blurring shapes that were too far away for him to make out. It was like cloud watching, when you squinted this way it could be seen as something different than if you looked from another angle. Woojin would never admit it, but it was a game he liked to play after school, all alone in the cavernous gym, lying flat on his back with the lights blinding him.  

“A secret?”  Woojin asked, lifting his head to look at him curiously.  Hyungseop nodded. Woojin wrinkled his nose. “You didn’t tell me a secret.”  He accused. Hyungseop widened his eyes. “Maybe I will.” He said secretly with a wink.  Woojin exhaled, leaning back and looking up at the mural, mulling the idea over in his head.  He had a lot of secrets that weren’t secrets, thing you could see if you looked closer or bothered to ask about, but nobody ever had.  

There were many threatening to spill forward, on the tip of his tongue, but he bit them back, tasting metallic blood in his mouth.  “How about you ask me something and I answer as truthfully as possible?” He offered instead, afraid of what would happen if he had the chance to tell someone else what he had been burying for years.  Hyungseop nodded, and Woojin wondered if he had something he was really curious about, since he opened his mouth right away. 

“Tell me about Jihoon and Jinyoung.”  He said, as if he had been waiting to ask that.  “Jihoon...and Jinyoung.” Woojin stated in a flat voice.  Hyungseop nodded earnestly. “I want to know that story.” He replied simply.  Woojin glanced at him. “You’re asking a lot.” He said slowly. Hyungseop nodded again.  “I know.”

Grumbling under his breath, Woojin added; “You better have a really good secret to tell me.”  Hyungseop paused and thought for a second or two. “Yeah.” He finally said, but his movements were cautious.  Woojin glanced at him, then nodded. “Fine.” He responded. “It might be a long story, though.” Hyungseop shrugged.  “I have nothing else to do.” He told him.

“I met Jihoon at a party, freshman year.”  Woojin started, letting the memory wash over him in waves.  “He gave me drugs, and I told him he was pretty and he kissed me.”  He paused, checking Hyungseop’s reaction. He was watching him wordlessly, the hem of his shirt riding up as he shifted positions.  “Everyone considered us the rendition of bad luck, and so we become good luck together.”

“Nobody knew, not explicitly, that we were dating.  Even we weren’t dating explicitly, I know Jihoon probably had many other flings with many other guys, but we always came back to each other.”  Woojin sighed, remembering the days when kissing Jihoon had been the only thing he could look forward to, when touching bare skin was as natural as opening your eyes.

“Anyways, that’s Jihoon and I.”  Woojin finished with a shrug, and Hyungseop looked at him.  “No it’s not.” He said in a low voice. Woojin grimaced, but it was clear Hyungseop wasn’t going to budge until he told him the full story.  “Jihoon and I...we were more than just friends with benefits, or whatever you call it. He got me, at least I thought he did, and I...I mean, it was nice having someone to lean on who understood me, you know?”  His voice caught.

“You have me now.”  Hyungseop reminded him quietly.  “I understand more than you might think.”  Woojin bit back the words on his tongue, sharp weapons at his every beck and call.  He didn’t want to hurt anyone more than he already had. Blood had never given him the adrenaline it gave others, there was nothing about that made him excited in energized, it only gave him the sharp memories that hurt his head, making everything dizzy.

“Jinyoung was….is...a difficult case.”  Woojin wasn’t sure how to explain the concept of Bae Jinyoung and everything he represented without baring the part of him he kept hidden for a reason, the ugly darkness that swallowed him alive at times.  “He...he’s something darker. Something real. And I, it scares me, so…” He couldn’t find the words to explain what terrified him in his mind, a puzzle he couldn’t work out. “Let’s just say that he is to me what I am to you.  A puzzle.” He smiled at the end, hoping it would cover up the long pauses, the difficulty to speak, the words that wouldn’t come.

“You asked me earlier why I wouldn’t sign up for the competition.”  Hyungseop broke the silence, lips twisting upwards into a half smile.  Woojin nodded, the thought had been a fleeting one, that he hadn’t thought of again.  Hyungseop stretched out his legs, starting to roll up one of his pant legs. Woojin slid back a scoot or two, watching him with wary eyes.

“I’m not going to show you something  _ dangerous _ or anything.”  Hyungseop said with a laugh, eyes crinkling up at the corners in the cute way they did, making him look like that cute bunny again.  Woojin stopped scooting backward, but still stayed farther away than before. Hyungseop paused, showing Woojin the long scar running up his thigh.  “See that?”

Woojin nodded, and Hyungseop smiled.  “That’s the scar from an accident I got into a while ago.  Now from the calf down I have a prosthetic.” He showed Woojin his leg, and Woojin peered at it, noticing the way it didn’t look quite like the rest of it, the flesh not flesh at all...Hyungseop yanked his pant leg back down, dragging his leg back to him.  “That’s why I can’t do much like I used to, and why I sit out for gym occasionally.”

“Isn’t...wasn’t that expensive?”  Woojin asked curiously. He had seen some prosthetics before, but they had been much more noticeable.  Hyungseop avoided his eyes, then said in a rush; “Myfamilyiskindofrichmaybe.” “What?” Woojin asked, unable to have caught any of it.  Hyungseop’s ears were fiery, as he repeated; “My family is kind of rich, maybe.” Woojin blinked. He wasn’t familiar to the Ahn name, but it must have been something important.

“I have to go.”  Hyungseop stood suddenly, turning away from Woojin, who scrambled to his feet.  “Already?” He asked in a small voice. Hyungseop nodded, still not meeting Woojin’s gaze.  Woojin felt weird, hugging himself. It felt like he had scared Hyungseop off already, that he couldn’t bear to face the boy who had told him the darkest parts of his soul and the one he had showed one of his own pieces too.   

For that reason, Woojin stayed behind as Hyungseop left quickly, pulling on his overshirt and not looking back once.  He should have run after him. But he didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'll also admit that I'm still upset and disappointed in Wanna One, but I'm trying not to let that effect my writing. (honestly it's not effecting my Samhwi or 2hyun and those are my faves so it's okay) Mostly yeah, I think I can look over that to my story. (trying not to let my own opinion get in the way, but thought I should let you guys know?)  
> See you guys soon~author out.


	13. Part J

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's the Winkdeep that I promised~ha, like I said it's not much but I hope you enjoy it anyway.  
> Also more 2hyun because WHY NOT I LOVE THEM.  
> I hope you guys enjoy the update. As always, this is not betaed haha.

_ Jinyoung _

His fingers were covered in smudge marks from the dark pencils and light colors he had been drawing with for hours, the marks blurs of beauty.  The sun was going down, casting shadows across his work, but Jinyoung simply redirected the balance of it on his lap, spread out across his legs, hunched against the curb. 

His ride wasn’t coming.  He had figured that much out, his dad rarely answered his texts or calls when Jinyoung bothered to send them.  He rarely even noticed Jinyoung, unless it was to beat him with a belt until his back was bloody stripes. Jinyoung didn’t mind, though getting into fights at school gave the bruises an excuse to be there.  No one asked questions that way. It was better that way.

The school was mostly empty by now, besides trails of smoke coming from the tip of a cigarette, clenched between the teeth of the one and only Park Jihoon.  Jinyoung had been completely avoiding his existence for a little over two hours, drawing quietly as Jihoon smoked. He was happy that Jihoon hadn’t bothered him, but it made him feel a little sad.  He had been wondering what Jihoon had thought of his drawing of him, the face sketch he had done as soon as he had got home from that bus ride. Jinyoung had considered coloring it, but Jihoon was too many colors, all blurring together at the edges, and he hadn’t thought he could do it, and also didn’t want to take the chance of ruining the picture.  

Jihoon exhaled, smoke wafting over to Jinyoung.  He leaned back to avoid it, crinkling his nose. He didn’t understand the appeal of smoking, having an acrid taste in your mouth and cancer in your lungs.  His mother had smoked until it killed her, and even to her dying day she had been unable to put down those darn cigarettes. Now smoke only brought back the memories of when she had been alive; an unpleasant woman but still preferred to the unpleasant man.

“Is the smoke bothering you?”  Jihoon had moved even closer without Jinyoung noticing, distracted as he was with his mind and the drawing.  Jinyoung shook his head, trying not to cough as another blast caught him in the face. Secondhand smoke was just as dangerous as smoking a cigarette yourself, but he clenched his teeth and tried to ignore it.  Knowing Jihoon, he was probably doing it purposely just to see if he could get a reaction out of Jinyoung. Well, he was going to find himself mightily disappointed. 

“It is.”  Jihoon said after a moment, and then proceeded to crush the cigarette with the toe of his sneaker.  Jinyoung watched the blackened ash grind into the white of it. Jinyoung looked at him in annoyance.  ‘Wow.” He said drily. He stood, closing his sketchbook carefully and hoping the drawing didn’t smudge in all the wrong directions.  

Jihoon had taken the picture Jinyoung had drew of him after everyone had gone and Jinyoung didn’t know what he had done with it.  Crumpled it and thrown it into the nearest trash can? Ripped it into shreds? Impaled it? ...Kept it...? Jinyoung shook off the last thought, laughing out loud at the mere ridiculousness of it.

“Am I that funny?”  Jihoon asked, but his eyes were dark and Jinyoung found no humor in them.  He wondered if being funny was a sore point for Jihoon, something he joked about but didn’t appreciate people acting like he was.  Jinyoung could relate, in the dark corners of himself. When you’re telling the police your father killed your mother and they laugh at you and call you a confused young kid who’s traumatized.

“No, not at all.”  Jinyoung replied, putting the sketchbook in his backpack and zipping it back up, the books like rocks.  He read a lot in his free time, book upon book, page after page until the fantasies and imagination wrapped him up and carried him to a land where dragons existed and brave princes ran to save their kingdoms and not every girl was necessarily a damsel in distress, in fact, they did a lot of the killing.  

“Alright.  Do you need a ride?”  Jinyoung wouldn’t have pegged Jihoon for one of the kids who couldn’t stop talking, but around him he couldn’t seem to not say something.  Jinyoung shook his head. “My dad should be coming soon.” “Really? So ‘soon’ is a couple hours late?” Jihoon asked curiously, eyes sharp. Jinyoung edged away uncomfortably.  He didn’t like Jihoon’s newfound interest in him, not matter how much Jinyoung himself was interested in Jihoon. 

“Come on.  I can give you a ride home.”  Jihoon said, grabbing his arm and leading him across the crosswalk.  Jinyoung froze up, legs stumbling forward against his will. Jihoon walked towards a scooter looking vehicle in the corner of the parking lot, haphazardly sprawled across several spaces.

“Tada!”  He said, letting go of Jinyoung to throw his arms out in a sweeping gesture.  Looking at the contraption in front of them, eyes sparkling, Jinyoung was reminded of a little kid on Christmas, or when they got a piece of candy.  He wouldn’t know the feeling of either, but he had seen it enough times to recognize it. 

“What is it?”  Jinyoung toed the edge of it, taking in the dark red paint coat.  It resembled a bike and motorcycle and scooter shoved together, but it obviously had to work and be legal if Jihoon was riding it all over the place.  Or maybe not the legal part, as it was Park Jihoon after all. It certainly didn’t look safe either; Jinyoung didn’t see a helmet or anything.  _ Since when was safety something that mattered anyways, though?   _ The voice in his head said.

“It’s perfectly safe, I promise.”  Jihoon said, but his eyes were glinting with mischief.  Jinyoung nodded, stepping forward, but was cut off by the screeching of tires.  “Son!” Jinyoung cringed, hunching his shoulders as if the weight of his backpack was dragging him down.  Jihoon frowned, peering over his head. 

“There’s my ride.”  Jinyoung said, licking his lips nervously.  Jihoon’s frown deepened. “My offer for the ride home still stands.”  He said cautiously, Jinyoung peeking over his shoulder to see his father glaring at the two of them.  He moved away from Jihoon, conscious of how close together they had been standing. “I’m good.” He said softly, dipping his head at Jihoon and walking over to the car.

He got in the back, slamming the door and facing straight ahead as his father pulled the car away, Jihoon left in its wake.

 

_ Minhyun _

“Sorry I’m late.”  Jonghyun said as he slipped off his shoes, face pink from the cold wind that had been blowing continuously outside.  Minhyun was sitting at the table in his apartment, two cups of tea ready, one in front of him and the other at the seat across the table.  He smiled, standing to take Jonghyun’s coat as he shrugged it off. Jonghyun waved his hand away, glancing at the clean table, the tea, and the notebooks.

He laughed.  “Wow, you really prepared for this.”  It was Minhyun’s turn to flush. “Yeah…”  He mumbled, scratching the back of his head.  “I made you tea, it’s Earl Grey, since I didn’t know what type of tea you liked, or if you were more of a coffee drinker…”  Jonghyun grinned. “I actually only drink coffee if I need a lot of energy or need to stay awake. Earl Grey is the best type of tea there is, though I probably overdose on sugar.”

“In that case, there’s the bowl.”  Minhyun said, pointing towards the counter.  Jonghyun walked over and picked it up, dumping a couple spoonfuls in his drink.  “Thanks.” He said, sitting down. Minhyun noticed that his socks were white with bright yellow and orange sunbursts on them.  He tucked his own black sucked feet under his legs, passing Jonghyun a pencil. 

“How do you want to do this?”  He asked, turning to a fresh page in his notebook.  He already had many pages filled with failed lyrics ideas, and he was hoping being near Jonghyun would help his creativity flow.  Jonghyun shrugged. “Let’s try for a bit and then compare. The theme is missing someone, correct?”

Minhyun nodded, swallowing back the pain that came with the thought of the people he missed more than anything.  Three of them, two that were gone and one that might as well be, miles away in the U.S. of freaking A. “Um, do you want to write for an hour and then compare?”  He asked, and Jonghyun nodded, looking lost in thought. “Yeah.” He muttered, and Minhyun put his earbuds in, took a sip of tea, and got to work.

_ “How’s it going?”  Dongho leaned over Minki’s shoulder, yelping when he got a mouthful of spiral bound notebook.  Minhyun laughed at his two friends, who refused to date because ‘they didn’t like each other’. What a lie.  Aron raised his eyebrows from his perch at the kitchen counter, turning his coffee cup in his hands. _

_ “How about we take a break.”  He suggested, sliding down and motioning for Minhyun to get their guests water, even if Dongho and Minki were practically part of the family by now.  Minhyun stood, sliding across the floor in his socks and nearly falling when it was more slippery than expected.  _

_ “I’ll get it myself.”  Minki grumbled, rising also at seeing Minhyun’s spectacular fail.  Minhyun grinned, stepping back to let his friend past. Dongho was flipping through the lyrics, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.  “We’re going to rock this thing.” He declared, slamming his fist onto the floor. _

_ “Did you ever doubt it?”  Minki asked with a laugh. _

“Your lyrics look great.  They match up perfectly.” Jonghyun had appeared at Minhyun’s shoulder and must have been reading for a while.  Minhyun slammed the cover shut, covering his music by reflex. Jonghyun stepped back, mouth pressing into a thin line.  “Sorry.” Minhyun swallowed against his dry throat. “I’m not used to people reading my lyrics.” He knew exactly what he had written, and it grated against him like a knife.

He stood, trying to change the subject.  “Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked, hoping to soothe Jonghyun’s hurt emotions.  Jonghyun looked at him suspiciously, then nodded. “Depends on the movie.” He added, and Minhyun pointed to the darkened living room and the wall stuffed with books and dvds.  “You’ll find I have just about everything. There’s always Netflix, though I’m a little overdue on paying that bill…”

“Rich dad problems.”  Jonghyun remarked with a snort, then reddened as he realized that it might be offensive to Minhyun, a rich dad kid.  Minhyun wondered if he was used to making those kind of jokes with his friends, the sarcastic way most kids bashed him and the government and just about everything else.  When he thought about it, he didn’t remember seeing Jonghyun with others often. He did occasionally hang out with kids from his bus stop, but other than that he seemed to busy.  Minhyun wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or sad that Jonghyun had made time for him.  _ Or he could have just had free time.   _ He reminded himself.

“How about this one?”  Jonghyun asked, pulling Train to Busan free from the mess of movies.  Minhyun glanced at it, then nodded “Have you never seen it?” He asked.  Jonghyun shook his head. “My family was never big on movie watching and then I never had enough money to go see one.  Or time for that matter.” He smiled sadly, turning the movie over in his fingertips.

“Well, you have some now.”  Minhyun sat down and slid the dvd into place, taking the remote and crab walking back to the couch where Jonghyun was already settling down in preparation.  He looked a bit awkward, a bit out of place among the stuffed cushions that were slowly deflating, legs crossed and arms resting on them, back straight and stiff.  Minhyun plopped down besides him, leaning in a little more closer than needed, forcing him to relax. 

Jonghyun did, pressing his lips together.  Minhyun wondered if he wasn’t used to being touched; every limb was frozen.  Minhyun didn’t press him, just hit play and flicked off the lamp. The only light flooded from the kitchen, but it was dim.  Jonghyun didn’t seem to mind, drawing his legs up as the opening credits played. 

“Is this one good?”  He asked quietly after a moment.  Minhyun nodded. “Bloody and sad.”  He said mournfully, remembering his first time watching the movie.  He had bawled his eyes out. Jonghyun nodded and settled back.

They watched the rest of the movie in silence, until Minhyun felt Jonghyun’s shoulder touch him.  Looking over, he saw that he had fallen asleep, eyes closed and head listing to the side. Smiling, he moved his shoulder so Jonghyun could sleep more peacefully, reaching forward as much as he dared to pull a blanket from the coffee table and drape it over Jonghyun.  Jonghyun snuggled under it, closer to Minhyun.

Minhyun turned the movie down, focusing on Jonghyun and making sure he was comfortable.  He looked so calm asleep, the worry lines disappearing from his forehead until he actually looked his age.  A regular eighteen year old, falling asleep after having fun hanging out with friends. Minhyun wished that he could rewind time and give Jonghyun a normal life, that he had bothered to talk to Jonghyun earlier.

“Well.”  He said aloud, though it was a bare whisper.  “I’m glad I at least got to meet you now.” Jonghyun didn’t stir, even when Minhyun leaned down and pressed his lips to Jonghyun’s, gently and quickly. 

 

_ Daniel _

There was something satisfying about hitting the punching bag again and again, pretending it was his opponent in the ring.  In his head he smashed them to a pulp and lifted his hands as the victor as the crowd screamed. And he was happy. The only part of the daydream that was an illusion and the part that should have been the most true.

“You’re slacking Mr. Kang.”  Coach drawled from being him, and Daniel merely shook the sweat from his bangs and hit harder, adjusting his stance.  He had been slacking, what with detention and his sister and his mother not bothering to come home again. It felt good to be back in the gym, training like he should have been.  Hours and hours on end this time like he was supposed to, instead of the few measly minutes he had managed to snag the past couple of weeks.

“If you weren’t our best player, I would have cut you long ago.”  Coach continued, nudging Daniel’s foot into position from where it had started to stray.  Daniel barely lessened his pace. “Then I’m glad I’m your best player.” He replied, drawing in another breath and hitting even harder.  This time he imagined it was Ong Seongwoo’s face. The punching bag folded and Daniel allowed himself a small smile.

“Your phone is ringing.”  Coach said, holding it out so Daniel could see the caller id.  Ong Seongwoo.  _ Speak of the devil.   _ Daniel cursed under his breath, stopping abruptly.  “What do you want, Ong?” He snapped upon answering it, holding his bangs off his forehead.  “Touche.” Seongwoo replied, but there was something off about his voice that made Daniel pause.  “What is it?” He asked again.

“It’s Hyejin.”  Seongwoo said after a moment, as if he had been dreading telling Daniel whatever news he was carrying.  “What about her?” He asked carefully. “She’s in the hospital.” The floor dropped out from beneath him, nothing mattering except for Hyejin, the fact that she was in the hospital, and the fact that Seongwoo had something to do with it.

“Which hospital?”  He managed, throat dry.  “Hanju hospital, but don’t you want to know why-”  Seongwoo was saying, but Daniel cut him off. “I’ll talk to you when I get there.”  He replied, the words coming out as a growl and a threat. Good. He wanted Seongwoo to feel threatened. 

“I have to go, Coach.”  Daniel spat, gathering up his things and shoving them into his bag.  “You can’t leave again.” Coach spat right back, drawing himself up. He was far more muscular, but Daniel was determined.  “I”ll be at the match, okay? I swear I won’t miss up, but I need to leave, now.”

“Daniel.”  Coach said.  “If you leave now, you’re out.”  Daniel paused, unwrapping his wrists slowly.  The cloth bunched in his fingers, pulled tight.  He gave Coach a level gaze. “No I’m not. You won’t do that, not when you need me that much.  So I’m leaving.” He said, striding past Coach and towards the door.

 

Seongwoo was sitting in one of the hard backed plastic hospital chairs when Daniel arrived, head hung low and hands clasped over his knees.  Daniel stormed over to him, footsteps abnormally loud in the quiet hallway. “What happened?” He asked curtly, Seongwoo’s head jerking up. “You’re here.”  He said slowly, but Daniel didn’t have time for pleasantries.

Hyejin wasn’t allowed to have visitors, not at the moment, having just undergone surgery.  Daniel was told his mom had already come earlier, but had had to get back to her job soon after.  She’d texted him, but he’d only skimmed over it in his rush to get to the hospital himself. So at that moment he was currently still freaking out and needed answers.

“Just tell me, Ong.”  Daniel snapped, biting back a curse word.  Seongwoo took a moment to collect his thoughts, then straightened.  His appearance was more messy than it usually was, not the artfully sloppy way he usually dressed, but actually a mess.  He looked tired, given that it was nearing midnight, and stressed. Daniel couldn’t bring himself to care.

“She got hit by a car.”  He said after a long pause, running his fingers through his dark hair.  Daniel stared at him, a million possibilities running through his head. “Why?  How?” He asked, the rage he felt overcome by a need to make sure his sister was safe and the reason why she wasn’t safe to begin with.

“We were just talking.”  Seongwoo said after a moment, and Daniel didn’t like the way he said ‘just’, or the way he said ‘we’.  Of course he’d known Seongwoo and Hyejin were hanging out together, there was no other reason Seongwoo would be the one to call him, but he didn’t like the thought that his sister was still hanging out with him even after Daniel had warned her away.  His hands tightened into fists at the memory.

“And?  Talking doesn’t explain how she got hit by a car.”  Daniel snapped. Seongwoo nodded, rubbing his eyes. “We met up at a cafe and then she left and tried to run to make the crossing light but it was too close and a car hit her.”  Daniel couldn’t believe Hyejin would do something like that, so stupid. 

“Why did you meet up?”  He asked instead, trying to find something to focus on except the image he had running through his head-Hyejin running with her brown ponytail with the faded blonde ends, determined to make it across.  She ran for track, so she was impossibly fast, with long legs and great endurance. He closed his eyes against the car racing forward, because cars were faster than humans.

“I don’t know.  She wanted to, but we’d just sat down when she bolted up and said she had to go.”  Seongwoo said with a shrug. Daniel frowned. It didn’t add up, and Hyejin wasn’t one to just ditch.  “Why…?” He asked again, but mostly to himself. Seongwoo responded though; “I don’t know.” He sounded miserable, and Daniel thought that maybe he knew more than he was letting on, but he was too tired to press.

“You should probably go.”  He said tiredly, pressing his fingers against his temples.  Seongwoo glanced up. “Why?” He asked dumbly, looking confused.  Daniel glanced at him. “It’s family only, and we don’t need an extra person hanging around.”  He said, the words coming out harsher than intended. 

“But…”  Seongwoo said, but Daniel’s sharp glare made him stop talking.  “Just be glad I’m not yelling or interrogating you.” Daniel added, making sure Seongwoo knew that both of those things would come later, when he wasn’t so exhausted and worried and distraught.  He would make sure that he and Seongwoo had a long talk after Hyejin was safe and okay.

Seongwoo stood, pulling his jacket on.  He was still wearing his school uniform, even though school had ended ages ago.  “I really am sorry. She’ll be okay.” He said softly, not meeting Daniel’s eyes.  “Just go.” Daniel snapped, trying to keep his tone even, pointing to the doors. Seongwoo nodded, trudging away.  The door slammed shut behind him, echoing for several seconds.

He sat on the bench, resting his head back against the wall and waiting for several hours until a nurse came in and said he could visit Hyejin now.  Daniel walked into the room, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth at his sister lying unconscious on the bed. She had an mask on her face, feeding her oxygen, and IVs attached to her finger and wrist.  There were bruises all over the bare skin he could see, her leg and arm in casts and bandages around her waist, peeking out from the neckline of her hospital gown.

He swallowed, suddenly feeling tears brimming in his eyes, a lump forming in his throat.  “Hyejin…” He whispered. “Why would you do something so stupid?” The words were sharp, but held no actual bite to them.  A tear trickled from his eye, sliding down his cheek, and Daniel swiped it away quickly. 

The nurse stood quietly at the door, supervising them to make sure nothing happened to Hyejin.  It was a ridiculous policy, but it made Daniel stand taller and made it easier to hold back to the tears.  He turned to her, trying to block Hyejin from his view, but still seeing her in his peripheral vision.

“About the bill for this,”  He started, unsure of how to say they didn’t have the money to pay for it.  The nurse perked up, seeing that she was being addressed. “Oh, don’t worry.  It’s already been taken care of.” Daniel frowned in confusion. He knew his mom was working and even then, even with her working every spare minute, she didn’t have the money to pay for what was sure to be an overly expensive bill. 

Seeing his confusion, the nurse clarified; “The young man who came in with her paid for it a couple of hours ago.”  She smiled, but Daniel only felt more confused.  _ Seongwoo _ had paid for it?  Daniel didn’t know he had money, but maybe, the thought occurred to him, guilt could go a long way.  He turned back to Hyejin, touching her hand lightly. “Get better soon sis.” He whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also if anyone watched the Idol Producer finale, I feel so emo right now :(((((. (you can yell at me on tumblr @astarlightmonbebe thank you)(Chaoze I'm not crying you are)
> 
> More cute Samhwi and conflict next time!


	14. Part K

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I almost didn't finish this in time. School has been ramping up because of final testing, so writing has been tougher, but I'm doing it! This chapter was going to be longer and involve more characters, but it ended up as just Samhwi again.

_ Samuel _

Daehwi was waiting at the recording studio when Samuel got there, panting and red faced from biking as fast as he could.  “Ready for the final take?” He asked, smiling the smile that made Samuel’s insides feel mushy. He nodded, going through the process they had done several times before.  He didn’t think they needed a final take, but Daehwi was a worrier and still didn’t think he sounded good enough, even though his voice was like heaven to Samuel.

Samuel himself thought that his own recording would probably take weeks to become really good, but he could settle for the bare minimum.  It was only the demo, and Samuel wasn’t trying to get in because of his vocals or rapping skill. It was all for the dancing, the feeling of the spotlight hot on his back and the music thrumming in his ears.  He took in a breath, remembering the smell of dust and the thumps of his footsteps from when he had visited the stage earlier, just to see what he would soon be standing on. 

“Your hair smells good.”  Daehwi muttered, close enough that Samuel could feel the slightest ghost of his breath.  He remembered the first day he had met Daehwi, the superstitious sniffs he had been taking.  “I use scented conditioner.” Samuel joked, patting his hair lightly. In truth, it was probably his gel, it always took a couple different cans to get the perfect look he held at the moment.

“Or maybe it’s just you.”  Daehwi whispered, eyes luminous in the shadowed grayness of the studio.  Samuel shrugged, trying to forget the pleasant feeling of Daehwi being that close, their first meeting in the studio.  He felt stupid feeling like that, but he blamed it on Lee Daehwi and his muddling hair and eyes and voice and the heat that radiated from him, especially how good he looked in the floppy pink sweater.

He went over to the equipment, his hands used to how he needed to set it up-what dials to press, the caution needed, how to fix his mistakes.  Recording was cool, the music thrumming from his very own fingertips as Daehwi sang, a window away. He was always a window away, but one day Samuel would make sure nothing was separating them.  He wanted to look at Daehwi up close for a long time, just drink in the sight of him, without having to hide his eyes.

_ Shut up, you stupid thoughts.   _ He told his mind, trying to forget everything he had just thought about it, and focused on Daehwi, who had just started.  He voice was amazing of course, he was the only one who didn’t seem to realize that. Samuel nodded along, sighing as he listened and hitting the dials and buttons when he needed to.

“You’re done!”  He called as Daehwi cheered lightly, a stressed look behind his eyes still.  He never stopped stressing or worrying about something, and a part of Samuel wanted to know why.  Why he wanted perfection, why he was always smiling, why he was nice even though the world spat in his face,  _ why why why.   _ But Daehwi looked happy on the outside, so Samuel smiled and hugged him for a quick second when he could.

“Are you going?”  Daehwi asked as he noticed Samuel shutting off the dials.  He shook his head. “I decided that I’m not going to overthink everything and just go with what I have.”  He said with as much pride as he could muster. In reality, he just didn’t have the energy and he didn’t want to worry over it anymore.  He also kind of wanted to make it Daehwis day, he had worked so hard after all.

“It’s over so soon.”  Daehwi said, more to himself than to Samue, but Samuel turned his head.  “Careful there.” He said jokingly. “The contestant list hasn’t even come out yet.”  Daehwi was working the edge of his pink sweater sleeves with the worry in his eyes again.  “I know.” He said, but it was in vain.

“Hey.”  Samuel said gently, resting his hand on top of Daehwi’s mittened ones.  “Do you want to get dinner in a couple hours? My treat. As a celebration.”  He always felt like he was speaking in halting sentences around Daehwi, words stumbling out after another with too many pauses and not enough eloquence.  It was okay though, because it made Daehwi stumble on his words too, in flushing, awkward pauses that made Samuel’s heart pang all the same.

“Yeah.  Okay.” Daehwi said, scratching the back of his head.  Samuel nodded. “I’ll pick you up.” He added, realizing the words didn’t really portray the reality that would be him throwing a rock at Daehwi’s window, knocking on the door, and then a walk or precarious bike ride to their destination.

“See you then.”  Daehwi exclaimed brightly, straightening, some color and shine returning to his cheeks and eyes.  He squeezed Samuel’s hand before skipping out of the studio without waiting to see Samuel’s reaction or if he followed him.  Samuel watched him go, looking down at his hand. It wasn’t a kiss on the cheek, but it felt distinctly like a promise of something more to come.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

 

_ Daehwi _

The rock hit his window at exactly seven o clock, after Daehwi had gotten out of dinner miraculously  He opened it and smiled across at Samuel, holding out a finger to tell him he’d be there in a second. Then he quickly changed into the loose t-shirt and jacket with his nice jeans and clean shoes.  After that, he raced downstairs.

“Mom, I’m going out with a friend from school!”  He called as he took his keys and shoved them in his jacket pocket.  Her head appeared from around the corner. Her eyes softened as she smiled, coming over with her hair swinging in it’s ponytail.  “I’m so proud of you.” She said, brushing at her eyes. “Making friends...everything. Have I told you?” Daehwi nodded, because he was pretty sure she had mentioned that before, he just had tried not to listen.

He squirmed away from her arms, impatient to leave and not eager to get trapped in a hug again.  “I’ll be back soon.” He mumbled, not sure if the words were true. Then he ran out the door and down the steps, nearly tripping on an untied shoelace.  Bending down, Daehwi tied it sloppily. It was sure to come untied later, but right now he was brimming with emotion and excitement.

He wondered if this counted as a date, or if he was just jumping to sudden conclusions because of being around Samuel.  If it was too good to be true, it probably was. It had taken a lot of courage to grab Samuel’s hand earlier, and he didn’t know if Samuel not pulling away was a good thing or a he-was-in-shock-thing.  

“Daehwi!”  Samuel was standing at the base of the driveway, waving wildly even though they were only a few meters apart.  Daehwi cut across the grass, shoes squelching in the slight dampness of it. He jumped the last foot, miscalculating and almost falling backwards on his butt.  He caught himself just in time, noticing that Samuel had started forward, but quickly drawn back when he saw that Daehwi was fine. 

“Where are we going?”  Daehwi asked, pulling out some crumpled bills.  “I have around twenty bucks.” He added. Samuel blushed.  “I was going to pay for both of us.” He mumbled, running his fingers through his hair.  He messed with his hair when he was nervous, Daehwi had noticed, threading his fingers through it or shaking it out.  It made Daehwi want to touch it even more badly.

He realized his hand was reaching out, and he quickly shoved them both in his pockets.  “There’s a nice shop I like going to.” Samuel had started explaining. Daehwi nodded, trying to seem attentive.  “It’s really nice, casual, quiet...like a Panera but with better food.” He finished, rocking back on his heels as if he too wasn’t sure what to do.

“Hey, Panera has good food!”  Daehwi argued good naturedly, elbowing him gently.  Samuel tripped over his own feet, off balance, and crashed to the ground.  Daehwi cringed inwardly. He messed everything up, even if this wasn’t a real date.  It was how things had gone so wrong at his last school, everything collapsing like it was made of cards.  He shivered, momentarily only seeing white and hearing the whispered words again, a deafening cacophony in his head.  Then he blinked and it was gone-over.

“I wasn’t saying it didn't.  I just said that this place is even better.”  Samuel replied, brushing off his sleeves, acting as if he had never fallen in the first place.  Daehwi nodded. “Are we walking or biking?” “Do you mind if we walk?” Samuel asked nervously, tugging down the cuffs of his jacket.  Daehwi shook his head. Walking would be good, and it required less paying attention as biking did.

They started down the road, Samuel half a step or so ahead since he knew where they were going and Daehwi did not.  There were clouds gathering in the sky, a light gray, wind blowing lightly. It smelled like rain, but lighter. “I think it’s going to snow.”  Samuel said after a moment, and Daehwi was glad he had worn a heavier coat. 

“Do you like snow?”  He asked, staring upward at the heavy gray clouds as if just looking would bring snow.  Living on the LA coast hadn’t given him much opportunities to see a proper snowfall, except for pictures online when the only sign that it was ocean was that the Pacific Ocean was a few degrees colder than usual.  Daehwi liked cold weather and wearing sweaters, red noses and scarfs and hot chocolate with generous amounts of whipped cream. Like, more whipped cream than chocolate. 

Samuel shrugged.  “It’s okay. I like the flakes more than actually getting trapped in your house because there’s a seven foot tall snow drift threatening to break all the glass in your window.”  Daehwi grinned imagining it, then asked; “Has that actually happened to you?” Samuel shook his head. “That would be cool though.”

He skipped over a crack in the sidewalk, an old habit from when he was young and really believed stepping on one would result in his mother’s death, or some other great tragedy.  He had sure been a gullible kid, but then, he hadn’t exactly grown out of that. Daehwi had come to realize he hadn’t grown out of a lot of things he should have, holding onto things he should have let go, still trying to see the best of people even when everything became cloudy and gray and the tears that ran down his face resembled waterfalls and rainfall.

“What’s this place called?”  Daehwi asked, sniffling as a particularly cold gust of wind hit them in the face, making his eyes well up.  He brushed at them, making the edges of the gloves he had found in his pockets damp, the tears caught on the falling apart material.  He half wanted to fall apart into a crying mess, but he had only let that happen to himself once, and he didn’t want another one associated what was sure to be one of the best memories he would ever have.

“It doesn’t really have a name, but we all call it the Cafe in the Wall.”  Samuel replied with a laugh. It was obviously a name a group of kids, or maybe smoking teenagers, had come up with.  Daehwi felt a pang of sadness and wondered what Samuel met by we. Samuel had seemed kind of as alone as he was, the kind everyone knew but no one could exactly get close to, but maybe he had made some friends.  Daehwi had seen him talking to quite a few people, after all. 

He was sure he could have tried to make more friends, but a part of him was still wary due to his past experiences.  In the end, Daehwi had decided to concentrate on his studies and grades while also being nice to those who interacted with him first.  He never pushed more than they did, or try to really initiate anything. He had learned that  _ assuming _ that someone was your friend and pushing that friendship only made them hate you more, write more mean things online, spread more rumors.

Daehwi gulped, wishing that the topic of last year wasn’t at the top of his mind this evening.  Samuel was gorgeous, it was going to snow, and they were going on a maybe date that could possibly turn into one if it wasn't already.  He had nothing to think obsessively about, no reason to be turning over these thoughts like they were a ferris wheel in his head.

“Sungwoon works there, so he always gives kids from class half off.”  Samuel was still chattering away, meaning Daehwi had probably missed a couple important things while lost in his own head.  “Sungwoon?” Daehwi echoed, puzzled. The name seemed vaguely familiar, but he was very mentally exhausted.

Samuel smirked.  “Ha Sungwoon? He’s in our class.”  He additionally clarified when it was clear the name wasn’t ringing the right bell for Daehwi.  Daehwi remembered a short kid with a round face and black hair. He hung out with Jisung and Jaehwan, that crowd-the equivalent to gossipy girls in male form.

“Of course, I don’t really appreciate the company he keeps, but away from them he’s actually a pretty okay guy.”  Samuel continued, and Daehwi wondered if he was just trying to make conversation or if he actually wanted to talk about this.  He didn’t mind either way, but people were curious creatures. 

Jisung and Jaehwan were okay, he guessed, just a little too gossipy.  Sungwoon seemed like a good kid, but Daehwi had no comment to make. “Careful of cars.”  Samuel warned as they came to a large intersection. “It’s over one block, so around five more minutes.”  Daehwi nodded, watching the cars buzz fast, and closing his eyes against the flakes that had started falling.  He remembered that as a kid he would stick out his tongue and catch them, and the memory made him start to open his mouth unconsciously.  

“We’re crossing.”  Samuel’s voice brought him out of his almost trance, and he jogged the couple of steps separating them, stepping closer to Samuel.  He had never liked crossing streets, with the cars just waiting for a chance to run them over. It felt too accident prone, like everything could collapse in a second.  Daehwi lived in a house of cards, but he had at least gotten used to tiptoeing around.

He squeezed his nails into his palms.  He was remembering too much, like the last time at Samuel’s house what seemed like years ago, and he didn’t want to relapse.  He’d been  _ okay _ for such a long time now and he didn’t want to ruin it.  They finished crossing the street and Daehwi let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.  

Samuel was skipping ahead, feet turning in a way that seemed like he wasn’t paying attention, following the moves of some dance.  Daehwi continued at his pace a little of the ways behind, content to watch him move. He could never dance as naturally as that. Samuel turned, holding out his hand.  Daehwi had no other choice but to walk up and grab it, letting them swing at his side.

“Here!”  Samuel cried, tugging him forward with a surge of energy.  Daehwi found himself staring up at a one story shambly place with an actual shingled roof, a hand painted sign carved out of wood, and glass stained by what looked like hand.  “It’s...charming.” Daehwi managed, catching a scent of coffee and rich chocolate as the door swung open, a song blaring from above them. He flinched inward, half reaching up to cover his ears before catching himself.

“You’re cute.”  Samuel said with a laugh, winking as he let go to roll up his sleeves.  The inside of Cafe in the Wall was more pleasantly furnished, with shiny wood floors and mismatched tables and chairs, painted a variety of cheery colors.  It was definitely more warm inside than the outdoors had been, making Daehwi think of winter again. All in all, it seemed like a proper place to get a hot drink and a pastry and talk the hours away.  He did have a very biased view on life, though, through his optimistic lenses, so it would probably not turn out that way. He could hope. 

At the counter, a boy was sitting on a stool behind it and texting on his phone.  Daehwi recognized him as Sungwoon. “Samuel!” He cried, looking up with a smile. His gaze flitted over to Daehwi.  “New kid!” He added, making Daehwi shift uncertainly. He had been at the school for at least a month by now, he wasn’t so new anymore.

“Hey, Sungwoon.”  Samuel said, raising his hand in a somewhat dismissive gesture.  He lead Daehwi up to the counter, pointing at the menu. “Get whatever you want.”  he whispered, and Daehwi began to feel more and more like this was the d-word and not just a friendly dinner.  “Okay.” Daehwi whispered in return, not sure why they were whispering exactly.

“Are you two ready to order?”  Sungwoon appeared after a few minutes, leaning across the counter.  Samuel glanced at Daehwi, who nodded even though he wasn’t really sure.  “I’ll have the avocado and cheese sandwich on toasted white bread, with a mango smoothie please.”  He said, a satisfied smile on his face. Sungwoon nodded, tapping a couple of keys, and turned to Daehwi.

“Uh...I’ll have a raspberry smoothie with the ham sandwich and that cherry pastry over there..”  Daehwi gestured lamely. Sungwoon raised an eyebrow. “Do you want  _ just  _ ham?”  Daehwi nodded, feeling the smile harden a little bit.  He grinned brighter to keep it from slipping off completely.  Sure, ham was not his most favorite food and he would never really choose to have a sandwich with just ham in the middle, but desperate times called for desperate measures.  Or awkward times, in that case.

Samuel was suppressing a smile as they stepped to the side to wait.  “Just ham?” He repeated, voice teasing.. Daehwi’s ears reddened and he ducked his head bashfully.  “I was pressured.” He muttered, but it didn’t come out as joke-sy as he had planned. They lapsed into silence until their food came, and then they went to a corner table and ate with only a smattering of light conversation between the two.  Daehwi wondered if his attempted joke had killed all the effort and relaxation they had previously had.

“Are you ready to go?”  Samuel asked after half an hour, and Daehwi nodded, standing up and shrugging back on his coat.  It was worn at the sleeves from countless hours of rubbing his fingers over it, and Daehwi touched them with some fondness.  He and this coat had been through a lot.

They left the restaurant, and Daehwi gasped.  It had snowed more, and now a couple inches were coating the ground, in fluffy drifts.  With the lamps lit, casting soft golden glows, and nobody else about and making noise, it felt something like a fairy tale.  Daehwi wanted to twirl and fall backward, letting it wash away everything going on his head, and maybe Samuel would fall down too and they would hold hands-only them and this snowy expanse of dreams and reality.

“Huh.  More snow.”  Samuel commented, and Daehwi remembered their earlier conversation about snow.  He nodded, trying not to let the joy spread over his face. Samuel snuck a glance at him again.  “You’ve been out of it.” He added, as if it was just another comment, but Daehwi started.

“What do you mean?”  He asked, searching his head for times he might have spaced out or missed what Samuel had been saying during their meal.  Samuel rapped him lightly on the head. “In hear. You’re in a different world, aren’t you?” Daehwi touched his head sheepishly.  “I guess.” He said.

Samuel took his hand, capturing it and putting it in his pocket with his own.  This, in turn, pulled Daehwi in closer. His shoulder bumped Samuel’s, but not uncomfortably.  “Look, the park.” He said, pointing with his free hand. “Do you want to sit on the swings?” Samuel looked like he wanted to object, but Daehwi gazed up at him and fluttered his lashes, so he nodded and let himself be dragged over.

The snow seeped into Daehwi’s jeans as he twirled back and forth, feet scraping across the ground.  He stared at it, the aimless patterns being traced. “At my old school,” He started. “The kids were awful.”  Samuel stopped spinning, staring ahead, but Daehwi knew he was looking at him also.

“You already know my dad and I were in a car accident, and that he died and I didn’t.  I hurt my leg pretty badly. Before that I was one of the best dancers in the state. I went to a bunch of competitions and performed my heart out.  It was great...until.” He stopped, swallowing hard, the memories rushing back in an unstoppable waterfall.

“Until?”  Samuel prodded, voice soft among the falling snow.  Daehwi looked up, flakes catching on his eyelashes and melting.  “Until my classmates realized they didn’t like me outperforming them all the time.  Until they accused me of killing one of my classmates, one of my old friends, who committed suicide…”  He trailed off for a moment, the words becoming difficult to spit out despite their oldness. 

“Until they wrote messages over my desk and tormented and bullied me and everything went to hell.”  The bitterness took over his words, twisting and turning them. “Anyways, then the accident happened.  It was a dream come true to them.”  _ And a nightmare come to life for me.   _ He thought silently.  “So we moved and mom used dad as an excuse but...it was really because of the kids of my school.”  Daehwi finished, leaning back so he was almost horizontal with the ground, the tips of his hair brushing the snow.

There was the creaking of chains as Samuel turned around, looking anywhere but Daehwi.  Daehwi wondered if he’d scared him out by unloading everything that had been weighing him down piece by piece, suffocating him slowly.  Samuel stood, walking over to him. He crouched in front of his head, looking at him. Daehwi stopped breathing, watching his eyes silently.

“You’re the strongest person I know.”  Samuel said slowly. Daehwi tilted his head back further, trying to not let the tears slip from his eyes.  “And I promise I will  _ kill _ whoever tries to do something like that again.”  He added, something vicious in his voice. Daehwi had to sit up and wipe his eyes furiously, moments away from breaking down.  Samuel straightened, taking both of his hands.

“Can I kiss you now?”  He asked, and Daehwi nodded slowly.  So Kim Samuel kissed him and it was everything Daehwi had ever wanted, the snow falling softly on them, golden light beneath his eyelids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :DDDDDDD  
> Thanks for reading~


	15. Part L

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if anyone noticed, but I messed up some of the chapter titles (there were two I's), but it should be fixed now~  
> I'm sorry for updating almost a week late, but I've had a lot of schoolwork. To warn you guys now, there probably won't be another update until June or the tail end of May. All my weekends are booked, plus I'm going to have entire week of finals wiping me out. I'm trying hard though, I want to have this done by the end of summer at the latest.

_ Seonho _

“Did you hear?  The contestant list came out today!”  Seonho moved to the side, pressing himself against the wall as students streamed past him, girls clinging to each other and shrieking, the boys more casually.  There was a fevered excitement in their eyes, awe and anticipation mixed together.

Seonho started to continue walking down the hall, but he stopped halfway down it.  Something pulled at him, telling him to walk down it and see what was going on. He turned around, steeling himself, and walked down the hallway.  There was a group of students crowding around the bulletin board that displayed all their announcements. 

“Yes man!”  Samuel said as Seonho shouldered his way past him, telling himself he was just curious as to who had made it.  It wasn’t exactly a hard competition to get into, but it was sort of a big deal to actually perform on a stage in front of an audience.  He allowed himself a smile at the sight of Samuel and Daehwi holding hands as they cheered together.

“Congratulations.”  He muttered under his breath as he passed, but Daehwi heard and turned to him.  “Same to you.” He said warmly, nudging Seonho with his elbow. “Same...for me?”  Seonho asked, not sure he had heard him right. Daehwi nodded, but before Seonho could question him further, he was yanked away into the crowd.

Panic rising in his throat, Seonho slammed his way to the front, giving up trying to be gentle and polite.  He scanned the list of contestants, pushing his glasses up even more and looking as closely as possible to make sure he would not miss anything.  There, under ‘piano’ was  _ Yoo Seonho,  _ printed in the black ink with a surety.  Seonho stopped, sucking in a breath and stumbling backward.

He picked up the  _ Lai Guanlin _ under his, but all he could see was a dimmer hallway and the same list, the happiness surging through him.  He was going to play Rachmaninoff, a challenge for his smaller hands with the rapid fast pace of the song. But he had been practicing forever and was ready to take it on, his mother’s proud smile all he needed even if everything went as wrong as the butterflies in his stomach were telling him.

And everything had gone as wrong, half the roof caving in with the crystal chandelier falling apart as it plummeted.  It had been a beautiful piano too, a baby grand that must have cost millions. That too had been destroyed, and Seonho grieved the loss of it almost as much as he did his own.  

“Do you know where Guanlin is?”  He asked the person closest to him, not bothering to see who it was.  “I think he’s in the classroom still.” Replied the bored tone, and Seonho darted out from the crowd without bothering to thank them.  He ran down the hallway, nearly tripping once or twice, but he felt like he was burning inside on a fast fuse, about to explode, and he needed something to explode to.  Someone. The cause of everything.

He slowed when he came to the door to the classroom, peeking in before he went in and started screaming.  Sure enough, Guanlin was there, his dark hair swept up as he faced the window, pencil tapping in the air. Seonho admired him for a moment, the way his legs were too long and his pants were too short, exposing a good couple inches of ankle and leg.  How his jacket was tight around his shoulders, his strong jaw and nose.

“Guanlin.”  Seonho stepped around the corner and through the door, setting his books down on a desk.  Guanlin turned, a wonderfully blissful expression on his face. Like he had been day dreaming of another world.  His face brightened at the sight of Seonho. “Seonho!” He exclaimed. “What brings you to this lonely classroom?”  He was trying to make a joke, but Seonho couldn’t even bring himself to smile.

“The list.”  He answered, swallowing against a dry throat.  Guanlin looked startled, but then he smiled even bigger.  “Oh! So you saw it?” He was smiling in the way that meant he knew Seonho wasn’t pleased, but was hoping he might be.  Seonho glowered at him. “No. Why would you do something like that? I’ve told you so many  _ freaking _ times that I am never doing that again and you try and do?  Despite how many times I’ve yelled at you?”

He drew in a breath, feeling the anger bubbling up from beneath the surface.  “Seonho, I just think you don’t realize the talent you have. Talent like that is something to be shared on a big stage so everyone else can enjoy it too.”  His eyes were shining, picturing it all. Seonho blew out, feeling tears pricking at his eyes already. He tried to blink them away.

“Maybe I’m selfish then!”  He cried. “Maybe I don’t want to share what I have with anyone else.  Why are you judging me for that? Why did you go against my wishes like that?”  Guanlin looked paler now, fingers twisting together. “I just thought that maybe...you actually wanted it or something, deep down.”

Seonho gasped.  “No! I didn’t! I don’t even want to think about what happened last year and here you are, so determined to make me remember it every time I see your stupid face!”  His chin wobbled, tears starting to spill over like a waterfall. “We’re not even friends, so why do you keep pushing this? WHY???!!!!” Guanlin flinched backward as he screamed the last word, chair scraping against the floor.

He lowered his head, eyes downcast.  “I’m sorry.” He finally whispered. “I really thought that you didn’t realize how much you needed this.  I’m sorry.” Seonho quieted, for a few seconds the only sound his sniffling and breathes. 

“That’s makes no sense.”  He finally told him softly.  “Doing this for me? Because you know what I feel deep down more than I myself do?  You’re not a therapist or a psychologist. Maybe I was your tutor for a while, but there’s nothing more than that.”  He lifted his chin, removing his glasses and wiping them on his shirt.

“Admit it, Guanlin.”  He put them back on, the air in the room heavy.  “You didn’t do this for me. It’s not about me being cowardly and selfish or whatever else I am.  It’s all about you. You were only thinking of yourself this whole time and you mistakenly thought you knew me when you do not.  Not at all. Sharing a terrifying experience does not make us friends, not in the slightest. I’m not going to forgive you and, unless you figure out a way to get me off that list, I never will.”

He picked up his books with as much dignity as he could manage, and turned to walk away.  He was at the door when he heard the chair squeak and footsteps, then flinched inward as Guanlin hugged him from behind.  His arms were tight around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder as he bent down.

“I’m sorry.  I just wanted you to play piano with me.  Or something.” He paused, shifting. Seonho couldn’t move, he could hardly breathe.  Everything about this was off, wrong, weird, but he wanted to stay safe like this forever if he could.  “Please forgive me. I’ll fix it, I promise.” Seonho was silent, thinking.

In the end, all he said was; “Get your hands off of me.”  And then he walked away slowly, trying to hide how much he was shaking.

 

_ Jihoon _

Jihoon found himself waiting by the buses when school let out, twirling a cigarette in his fingers but not lighting it.  He could remember the way Jinyoung scrunched up his nose and waved the smoke away in perfect clarity, and it kept him from lighting his new one.  He didn’t even know if Jinyoung took the bus regularly, except for the one time Jihoon had sat next to him.

The picture, the one Jinyoung had drawn beautifully.  It had been every exact detail, as if he had truly memorized Jihoon’s face.  But the memory of the picture brought the memory of Woojin’s destroyed face, the way he’d thrown Jihoon away and screamed; ‘I thought we were the same, but you’re different than me.’  If he was honest, he still didn’t understand what Woojin had meant.

Maybe that was the point.  Maybe it proved that he and Woojin had gone away from each other, from what they were.  Jihoon let the stick fall to the ground, kicking it away into the shadows. It felt good, and he felt happy that he didn’t reach for another like he usually did when he was done with one.

“Any particular reason you’re loitering?”  Jihoon jumped backward, banging into the trash can that he had been standing by.  Jinyoung peered up at him, rocking back on his heels. Jihoon tried to regain his balance, patting his hair and jacket down.  “Oh, I was waiting for you.” Jinyoung smiled in amusement. 

“You could have asked me after class had ended.”  Jihoon frowned. “It’s not my fault you bolt out of there like a scared rabbit.”  Jinyoung looked down, hands twisting around his backpack straps. “Well...I would have stayed if you had asked.”  He finally mumbled, the tips of his ears rosy pink.

“What did you want, then?  Since we’re here.” Jinyoung asked after a pause.  Jihoon brightened, remembering why he was waiting against the wall to begin with.  “I wanted to ask you something.” He started, drooping a little as he noticed how Jinyoung sort of shied away from him, looking like he was preparing to exit as soon as he needed to.

“Um, do you have any plans to go to the competition?  Because if you don’t and want to go, of course, do you want to go with me?  See, I’m without a date and it would be awkward to go alone, especially since I got rejected by them...haha, awkward right?”  Jihoon knew he was acting out of character, but he felt the need to fill Jinyoung’s silence.

“Jihoon.”  Jinyoung said after a moment.  “I’m sorry you didn’t make it. About your invitation, I’ll think about it.  I’m not sure if I’m allowed to go.” He added solemnly. Sometimes, when Jihoon looked at him, he found it hard to see the boy who had talked to him for that first time on the bus, with the sparkling and teasing eyes.

Jihoon nodded, then asked; “Can I have your number?”  Jinyoung glanced up at him from under his bangs, eyebrows arched in surprise.  “So I can work out the details.” Jihoon corrected himself, flustered. Jinyoung nodded, holding out his hand.  Jihoon realized after a moment that he was asking for Jihoon’s phone. Jihoon placed it in his palm, which was warm despite his cold demeanor.

Jinyoung punched in his number and then returned the phone, smiling.  “I’ll text you in a few to make sure it’s all good.” He said, smiling somewhat toothily.  “Now, I have to go or I’ll miss the bus.” “Me too.” Jihoon blurted out, following him across the cool pavement.  Jinyoung looked at him skeptically. “You don’t usually ride the bus home.” He said slowly. Jihoon nodded.

“I don’t have a ride today.”  Truthfully, he never had a ride, preferring to run down the streets like someone wild, steal a motorcycle if the will came to him.  Jinyoung glanced at him, still curious, but nodded. “Fine, as long as you don’t bother me.” Jihoon pouted. “Way to suck the fun out of everything.”  But he followed him diligently and sat quietly, eventually letting Jinyoung fall asleep against him.

 

_ Jonghyun _

It was midnight and freezing, but Jonghyun stood outside, by that park bench again, trying not to cry.  He tried not to think about the note from the hospital, his doctor’s grave words, how everything was crumbling down so perfectly.  He supposed he hadn’t been built to last, not with the sickness in his veins and his weak heart. Maybe even his mother had seen it, when she’d left him.  He wondered if she would notice when money from a mysterious source eventually stopped trickling in.

Some days it was like this, Jonghyun thinking about his mother.  Wondering if she thought about him too, if she even remembered the son from twelve years ago.  She probably didn’t. He thought she was married now, if he remembered correctly. Jonghyun had never known his father, but he was pretty sure he was rich, because he had used to send them money.  Then he had stopped and his mother had thought the only solution was to give Jonghyun up to survive.

It would have been nice to have rich father.  Not having to work the six hundred jobs he did, for a crappy paycheck of twenty dollars despite all the extra hours.  Just going to school, maybe doing a sport, not having to study so hard and rush away the moment the bell rang. Maybe he would have had more friends then, going out after school and getting ice cream, or just walking around and riding bikes or something of the sort.  Jonghyun wasn’t really sure what friends did, they were a luxury he had given up a long time ago.

Then Jonghyun remembered Minhyun, and how being rich didn’t make life perfect.  Not every cloud had the bright silver lining you thought it would. Jonghyun reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and pressing Minhyun’s number.  He wanted to call him, to just say  _ something, _ even if he couldn’t tell him what he really should.

“What’s up?”  Minhyun answered on the first ring, sounding a mix of sleepy and relaxed.  Jonghyun could imagine him in sweatpants, at his house. “Just wondering how you were.”  Jonghyun said, which wasn’t what he had been intending to say, but he wanted to lie for Minhyun.  Maybe he wouldn’t appreciate the lies, but Jonghyun wanted to protect him from getting hurt more than he already had been.  It was backwards, but he couldn’t help it.

“We made the list.”  He added, and Minhyun laughed.  “Of course we did. We’re going to rock that thing.”  Jonghyun felt his lips twitch, something about the warmth of Minhyun’s laugh contagious.  He changed suit, asking; “What are you doing right now?” Minhyun paused, thinking. 

“Lying around.  Want to come over?”  The invitation slid off his lips so easily, and Jonghyun had to blink and process it.  “Um, sure.” He finally whispered, remembering the last time he had been at Minhyun’s house.  It occurred to him that Minhyun’s house was the only one he had been to besides his own in a long time, and that it felt familiar.

“Give me ten minutes.”  Jonghyun told him, ending the call and checking his location.  He was relatively close, at the bus station, but the bus wasn’t coming for a while, so he pulled up his hood and started to walk.  The snow had melted off some of the sidewalks, but it still soaked through the thin bottoms of his falling apart shoes, the occasional slush dampening the ends of his jeans.

He found Minhyun’s apartment fairly quickly, even though the light was fading.  His feet remembering the pattern, the creaky steps and worn parts. He knocked, pulling back his home and pressing his hands to his cheeks, trying to warm them up, but not succeeding as his hands were freezing too.  He hoped Minhyun’s house was warm.

Minhyun pulled open the door immediately, grinning.  “You look cold.” He observed, hustling Jonghyun in and shutting the door as soon as he was inside, the cold air dissipating.  Though Minhyun’s apartment was small, it was warm, like a little oven in the middle of a blizzard. Jonghyun shivered happily, pulling off his wet shoes.  They would be a pain to put back on, but right now it was a relief to have them off. 

“Did you walk in the snow?”  Minhyun asked with a frown, taking in his soaked jeans.  Jonghyun smiled sheepishly. “Maybe I just couldn’t wait a bus ride to see your face.”  He teased, but it felt awfully flirtatious after the words came out of his mouth. Minhyun smiled with his lips closed, as if he was trying to hold back laughter.

Minhyun was humming their song, Daybreak, under his breath, and Jonghyun felt his heart flutter.  “Thanks for having me over.” He finally said, to break the peaceful silence. Minhyun nodded, pouring them both tea.  He seemed to have a lot of tea, different colored packets with different languages on the package, strangely shaped tea bags turning into dark liquids.

“No problem.”  Minhyun handed him him the cup with the chipped paint, an uneven rim, on a faded saucer.  Jonghyun brushed his fingers over it, enjoying the smoothness of it, how his fingers danced over the surface with the bumps and cracks.  The cup and saucer had a homely feel to them, even if Minhyun never seemed to consider his apartment as home.

“How often do you want to meet, in the future, to prepare?”  Minhyun asked, filling in the emptiness that had been slowly spreading.  Jonghyun felt relief in him as there was once again noise, comfortable again.  “I’m usually pressed for time, but I could make a couple hours a week?” He felt bad as soon as he said it, because it was so little time.

“That’s good.”  Minhyun leaned against the counter beside him, and Jonghyun shuffled so that they were closer, so that the distance didn’t feel awkward.  Minhyun didn’t move, just tilting his head slightly, and Jonghyun took that as a good sign. “Hey, Minhyun…” He started, setting down his tea.  Minhyun turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. It disappeared into his bangs, which were swept over his forehead today. 

“Yeah-?”  He started, but Jonghyun cut him off by leaning forward and kissing him squarely, turning his head to deepen it.  Minhyun was still, but after a moment he caught Jonghyun’s hand and pulled him closer, leaning up. Jonghyun melted into the feeling, of warmth and softness, of Minhyun himself.

Minhyun pulled him to the couch and kissed him longer, harder, as if he was afraid that he was going to run out of time.  Jonghyun felt like he was brimming up with happiness, threatening to spill over the edges. The kissing continued on for what felt like hours, nothing less and nothing more, until it slowly died off, Minhyun with his head on Jonghyun’s shoulder, tracing patterns on the bare skin showing through the rips of his jeans.

Jonghyun didn’t say anything, enjoying the pleasant tingles going up his body.  It was Minhyun who spoke first, almost too quiet to here. “Their names were Minki and Dongho.  We were best friends. We did everything together. We had a plan to do the competition together.  It was a childhood dream, to be in a group when we were older. It was becoming a reality too, producing and writing our own music with the help of my older brother.”

He paused, seeing Jonghyun’s puzzled eyes.  “Aron’s in the States now, I don’t know when he’s coming back.  At least one of us was successful at escaping.” He smiled like it pained him.  “At the competition, something happened...a bomb, an earthquake, a gunshot...who knows.  Maybe it was an avalanche of snow.”

He was still smiling funnily, more of a grimace, and Jonghyun could tell the joking way he was talking was to cover how much it really bothered him, not knowing why his friends had ended up dead.  “The chandelier came down, along with half of the roof. They were crushed...Minki got impaled by one of the spires…” Minhyun got off, choking on sobs, burying his face in Jonghyun’s shoulder.

His tears made the fabric wet, but Jonghyun didn’t care.  Half of him was already soaked, anyways. He had no words for Minhyun’s loss, for what he had been through.  All he had was his body, his arms wrapping Minhyun into a hug, chin resting on the top of his head. His fingers combed through his silky hair, something he remembered the ghost of a motion from the happy moments of his childhood, his mother doing this to him.

“I miss them so much and nobody seems to get it.”  Minhyun said between gasps, voice muffled by Jonghyun’s hoodie.  “They don’t understand how much it hurts, it hurts so  _ freaking _ much.  People telling me to get over it...that I should be over this by now, but I’m not.  I can’t just forget it, that night. I can’t make myself stop missing them and hurting and grieving, so I don’t understand while people keep telling me that I should be by now.  A year doesn’t mean crap. Compared to how long the average person lives, a year is nothing.” Minhyun stopped to breathe, the anger fading from his body, leaving him slumped against Jonghyun.

Jonghyun spoke up, stopping his motions for a moment.  “I’ve been living for twelve years without my mother, and I still think about her almost every day.  I wonder how she’s doing, even though I could march up any day and knock on her door, tell her I’m her son.  My dad was just some person who could have cared less, and I guess he did, because he was never around.”

He considered this.  “I blame him for a lot of stuff, when I’m particularly angry, but I can’t really.  He did help out, for a while at least, but then he stopped. Maybe he’s dead and we just never knew...or maybe he moved on and forgot.  It’s not like it kills me not to know.” His fingers worked over a frayed thread on his jeans, rubbing it back and forth between his fingers.  Minhyun was still, his sobs having died off, and even if he wasn’t looking at him, Jonghyun could tell he was listening.

“My mom left me, if you didn't know.  On a park bench. I was six. I nearly died, and, yet, I can’t resent her.  I love her, deep down. Even if she never bothered to try and find me, to see if I was alive, to send me money...to do anything, I still love her.  Missing people and loving people, it works in mysterious ways. We don’t decide how deep our scars go.”

He finished, and Minhyun raised his red rimmed eyes to look at him, kissing him lightly.  “Maybe,” He said quietly. “Our scars run deeper than blood, and maybe that makes us beautiful.”  He looked up at Jonghyun, eyes unreadable. “You’re beautiful.” He whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Sorry for being the most sporadic author ever, but I'm trying my best (most of the time)  
> Also, this was a couple of weeks ago, but I published my fic for Justice League. It's 2hyun, called 'Roses are Red and Violets are Blue', you can find it on my dash!


	16. Part M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry for being a week late~^^ It was crazy with all the tests and stuff. Thankfully, school lets out in two weeks so I'm going to really write this (I just started falling action and conclusion, i.e. the competition day in docs). My goal is to have this finished by the end of the summer or sooner, which is around six more updates (probably less than that) The final word count will probably be 50-60k words.  
> Also, this is officially my story with the most hits!!!! Thank you for being so nice <3

_ Hyungseop _

Woojin hadn’t called him, or even looked at him, since the afternoon in the gym.  Hyungseop regretted showing him his leg, his vulnerability. He shouldn’t have run out that day, but the silence had become unbearable, turning into judgement and eyes on him.  He was no stranger to judgement when he revealed himself, what he had hidden under pants and quietness, behind his music.

People claimed they didn’t judge based on looks, but human beings were shallow.  In the end, they couldn’t see past the surface, past the twisted outsides to golden insides.  It was the bitter truth of life, and Hyungseop knew it, even if he would have liked to think that maybe Woojin was different.  Who was he kidding; Woojin might act different, but human beings were fundamentally the same if you peeled back enough layers.

Still, he wanted to talk to Woojin again.  To feel the easy sense of comfort and understanding he got when he was around him.  Hyungseop had never had friends, never in the way other people had them. A couple when he was a kid, but they all disappeared when he got too close, tried too hard.  Nobody wanted the weight of someone else. Even if you ran the race together, if you fell they kept on going because it was just  _ easier. _

Hyungseop didn’t know what easy was.  He’d never had it easier. It was how you grew stronger and fought back.  Easy didn’t make the future that way. Especially now that winter was coming, his nonexistent leg panging more and more from the change in temperature-sudden and swift.

They called it phantom pains, the feeling that your lost limb was still there, doing things.  Hyungseop had become unattached to the feeling, vaguely associating it with his prosthetic, but dealing with it otherwise.  Hyungseop felt very ‘phantom-y’ at points, see through, as if he wasn’t there. 

Woojin was the reason he was waiting outside of the school gates, shivering like mad in his thin jacket, tired and exhausted.  Being number one didn’t come easily; Hyungseop worked and worked at the cost of his sleep and freedom, but the end result was worth it.  It had to be worth it, and it was, or so that was what he told himself. He couldn’t remember if Woojin had even been in school that day, pointedly not looking for him.

After an hour, Hyungseop left the school, when the lights had all gone out.  He trudged home with his head down, turning to enter a convenience store at the last moment.  He had money in his pocket, slightly damp from the light drizzle that was coming down. Buying a kimchi ramen, Hyungseop went to the counter running along the windows, sitting down.  He stirred the ramen listlessly. 

It was hot and spicy, but it didn’t bother Hyungseop, even as the roof of his mouth burned.  He felt tired, despondent even. Maybe he would try and find Woojin again tomorrow, or maybe he would give up the cause completely.  It wasn’t like he would have been able to keep the possibility of a friendship running for the next six months anyway. 

His repetitive routine was getting tiring, hard to keep up.  Hyungseop wasn’t sure if it was because of winter coming, or the competition rolling back around like there had never been a skip on the record, but he felt smaller and sadder.  More tired, every action weighing a million pounds, adding more to the burden he could barely carry on his shoulders. The cold was biting, his leg was like a dead weight he dragged around behind him.

He felt like dead weight, dragging down everyone around him when he found somebody else to latch on.  Hyungseop wanted to  _ be _ dead weight, maybe drown in an ocean of empty gray light.  Gray was such a nice color, a mix of the black and white, not one or the other, just in between.  Hyungseop liked gray; he felt gray.

Woojin’s hair was red, fiery red, like every color Hyungseop wanted to be.  Bright and bursting in an explosion. It must be nice to have hair that color, so against the tide.  Hyungseop himself wouldn’t look good with red hair, but he just thought the idea of it was a comforting one.  He wanted to tell him that, suddenly.

Woojin was very colorful, very there.  With his red hair, snaggletooth, black hoodie, and scuffed sneakers, he was a careless renegade.  Hyungseop kind of missed it, the side he could see if he squinted, and then the open one he threw in people’s faces.  When Hyungseop was thrown in people’s faces, they backed away and ran. It was why he studied and kept this earbuds in even when he wasn’t listening to music.

He remembered the day when he had finally saw Woojin, besides the parts he was accustomed too, after he beat up Jinyoung in the hallway.  He still didn’t understand exactly why Woojin felt the way he did about Jinyoung and Jihoon, even with his badly given explanation. How Woojin had watched him, eyes fixated on him, dark and questioning.  Hyungseop had wanted to chase that gaze, feel it again.

_ “Your hands are shaking.”   _ Jinyoung had observed, and Hyungseop had seen how Woojin’s mouth had tightened, clenching his fists tighter to hide their trembling.  It had fascinated him, if he was scared, angry, afraid of himself, or maybe all three. Hyungseop was good at reading people, but he wasn’t good at reading Woojin _. _  He wanted to be good at reading Woojin, but then again, maybe he didn’t.

He had Woojin’s contact, somewhere in here.  Hyungseop fumbled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his very empty list of contacts, and finding Woojin’s name.  He had never called or texted him, but he kept it anyways. Hyungseop called him before he thought better of it, but it only rang and rang in his ear.

So Hyungseop called him again and, this time, Woojin picked up.  “Who is it?” He asked, sounding tired and exhausted, or maybe just done.  “Ahn Hyungseop.” Hyungseop repeated robotically. Woojin was quiet. “What do you want?”  He finally said cautiously, voice laced with suspicion.

“The competition’s next week.”  Hyungseop said sleepily, not sure why he was saying more and more words, but unable to kept silent.  Now that someone was talking to him, he felt anchored, like there was something keeping him tethered to the ground.  “I know.” Woojin said gruffly. “I don’t plan on going, if that was what you were going to ask.”  
“I was actually wondering if you wanted to do something else that night.  Like get dinner or see a movie.” Hyungseop said, surprised to hear the invitation himself.  He felt more at ease, saying it. It would do him good to be doing something else, not home alone thinking about the competition and everything it represented to him and many others.

“Oh.”  Woojin sounded unsure.  He moved on the other end of line, exhaling softly.  Hyungseop could almost feel his breath if he imagined hard enough, ghosting across his ear and neck like the whisper of a promise.  Then; “That would be nice.” He finally said uncertainly, sounding like he didn’t think Hyungseop meant it.

“Really?  You won’t bail on me, right?”  Hyungseop asked, needing the clarification, the reassurance.  “Of course.” Woojin said softly, sounding more relaxed and calm now.  Hyungseop smiled, murmured goodbye, and hung up, feeling better. Maybe he wasn’t so alone after all.

 

_ Sungwoon _

Jaehwan and Jisung were waiting for him when he ran to the rooftop, panting from the exertion it had taken.  He had left as soon as class had ended, but had still had to race to make it on time. They were sitting on the abandoned desks and chairs, covered in graffiti and tears and stains, like they were about to fall apart at any moment.

He adjusted his blazer, nodding to them.  Jisung was chewing bubblegum, blowing impossibly large bubbles and snapping with them a sound like a rubber band.  Jaehwan was looking at his phone, but he put it away when Sungwoon entered, returning his nod. “You’re five minutes late.”  He added, jerking his head at the old fashioned clock in the corner.

“Sorry, I had to talk to Teacher Oh.”  Sungwoon responded, wiping away the sweat on his forehead.  A crisp wind blew through the broken windows of the shed, ruffling his dampy bangs.  It smelled cold, like winter was coming. It was December after all, the thirty first tomorrow.  It hadn’t been particularly cold, despite the snow that had been falling on and off, and enough to make Sungwoon feel hot in their stuffy uniforms.

“Are you guys going on Saturday?”  Sungwoon asked, twirling a leaf between his fingers.  Weeds were always springing up between the cracks of the cement, despite them being far from the ground.  The competition was on Saturday, the whole student body buzzing with excitement and whispers.

He had never participated in the competition himself, but he had gone to every single one that had been held.  Including the one last year, even though he had been late, he had been there long enough. Luckily, Sungwoon had gotten out as soon as dust and glass started falling, safe as part of the building tumbled inward.  

There was always guilt that came with that, despite the relief he had felt.  Sungwoon had little to himself, only a determination to work hard and stay low.  He was never a leader, he had only ever been a follower, and it was easy to follow Jisung and Jaehwan despite the jerk things they did at times.  Sungwoon usually wouldn’t have to ask to do things he liked, but things had become different since he fell in with them.

“Sure.”  Jaehwan said with a shrug, and Jisung did what could have been a nod, looking off into the distance.  “I presume you’re going to be attending?” He added, glancing over at Sungwoon. “Oh, um, only if you guys are going…”  He stumbled, feeling flustered. Jaehwan laughed.

“You wouldn’t have asked if you weren’t planning on it.”  He said after it had died off, voice sharp and accusing. Sungwoon shifted uncomfortably.  He would have liked to think he would have gone-it was a long standing tradition and promise he had made to himself-if Jisung and Jaehwan hadn’t approved, but he wasn’t sure.

Maybe he had changed a little bit too much, trying to fit in like this.  Maybe he wasn’t meant to fit in, to be his own person. It wasn’t as easy as it seemed.  “Well, I was wondering if you wanted a ride if you were going.” Sungwoon said to cover up his inner thoughts, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You have a car?”  Jisung asked in surprise, looking at him for the first time since he had arrived.  Sungwoon didn’t appreciate feeling like he was that small, that unnoticeable. “I’ve never seen you drive it.”  He said. “That’s because I don’t usually have time. Public transportation is easier anyways.” He mumbled.

“Great, then.  I want to see what type of car you have.”  Jisung said, looking distinctly brighter at the prospect of scoping out Sungwoon’s car.  Sungwoon smiled but it felt tight around the edges, taut and ready to snap if he had to force it any longer.  “Who do you think is going to win?” He switched to one of his favorite topics, gossip and speculation. Sungwoon hadn’t used to do a lot of that, but he was used to it by now.

“My bet’s on Samuel.”  Jaehwan said, swinging his legs back and forth.  Sungwoon was never sure if he should sit down too, or remain standing.  He usually choose standing, and that was what he did today. “I mean, a lot of the nerdy kids are doing it, and that girl group, but that dude is fire man.”

“Did Seongwoo sign up?”  Sungwoon asked curiously, not remembering.  Jisung hummed with thought, then shook his head.  “I don’t think he did, but I could be wrong. Or Daniel.  There’s that new kid...David or whatever;” “It’s Daehwi.”  Sungwoon interjecting, feeling blood rise in his pale cheeks at the scathing look Jisung gave him.

He remembered the two coming to the Cafe in the Wall a week or two ago, flushed and snowy from the coming blizzard.  They had been cute, in the way new couples were, happy and buzzing with it. Of all the people Sungwoon would have pegged to fall in love, with a new and young boy of all things, he would not have picked Samuel.

“Then the two nerds,”  “Seonho and Guanlin.” Sungwoon didn’t technically have to supply their names, but Jisung would never learn if he didn’t.  Even if he had been doing this all year. “Oh yeah, Seongwoo did sign up, I’m just remembering it. Let’s see, Minhyun’s doing a duet or whatever with the class prez, and those Twinkling Star girl group or whatever ridiculous name they call themselves are doing some cover dance.  Then I think that quiet girl is doing a solo, wow, I wouldn’t have thought she had the guts.”

Sungwoon was surprised a lot of people had had the guts in actuality.  The list was shorter than years previous, but more than he had been expecting.  It took courage to do something that had ended in tragedy, like this competition had.   _ There it was, that surge of guilt in the pit of his stomach. _

“My money is on Daehwi.  There has to be something the kid’s not showing us.”  Jisung said thoughtfully, and Sungwoon felt a bare surge of pride at the fact that he had used the correct name.  He must have had some sort of influence, then. Jisung cleared his throat, and Sungwoon realized they were both looking at him expectantly.  Sometimes he forgot that they wanted to hear his opinion at times, so used to listening and blending into the background.

“Um, I think it will be Minhyun and Jonghyun.”  Sungwoon said, picking a random name from the list Jisung had doled out.  Jaehwan raised his eyebrows. “I think they have more too, plus I’m interested in seeing what the smart and rich can show us.”  He said, carefully avoiding the fact that both Jaehwan and Jisung were very rich.

Jaehwan jumped down.  “Well, see you on Saturday then.”  He said, and sauntered out, followed by Jisung.  Sungwoon waved at their backs, then wondered why he was bothering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was mostly a filler episode and pretty shirt,,, sorry about that ;_;. Sungwoon's part was thrown in pretty randomly just to create a bridge. The next update will be around the 15th I think~~~  
> Comments and kudos as always!


	17. Part N; Competition day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy last day of school! (Or it is for me :P) Now that it's summer, I'll be going on vacation a couple times-I'll still try and update every two weeks, but it won't always be on Friday.

_ Jihoon _

Jihoon stared at himself in the mirror, trying to decide if his eyeliner was too thick and dark, or if the lighting was just too dim.  He blotted at the edges, graying out the wingtip at the end so it looked smudged in the purposeful way, also looking good. He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, tugging at the silky material and wondering if it looked as fake as it was-a cheap five dollars from a store that had no brand name whatsoever, a rip off from what the rich and expensive people bought.

He checked his phone, seeing he had a little over half an hour to get Jinyoung and go to the competition, which was around fifteen minutes away.  Sighing, he hit the call button next to Jinyoung’s name, pulling on his boots. Cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder, he tied them, listening to the loud rings in his quiet room.

Jinyoung picked up just as it was preparing to go to voicemail.  “Who’s this?” He asked, voice heavy. Jihoon blinked at the phone for a moment, disbelieving.  “Check the caller ID.” He snapped, and he heard rustling. “I still don’t know who this is.” Jinyoung replied.  Jihoon tried to resist fuming, growling low in his throat.

“Do you really not know?!”  He exclaimed, unsure on whether or not Jinyoung was messing with him.  Jinyoung laughed into the receiver, and Jihoon could picture his eyes crinkling at the corners.  “I’m kidding. I knew it was you, Jihoon.” Jihoon felt a fluttery feeling at the way he said his name, carrying something special behind them.  

“I’m coming to pick you up.  You’ll have about ten minutes when I hang up.”  Jihoon told him, trying to sound businesslike. Jinyoung paused.  “I’m not at my house.” He said finally, and Jihoon heard the roar of cars if he listened closely.  “Where are you then?” He asked, trying not to sound too concerned and probably failing.

“I’m at a bus stop.  The one near you.” Jinyoung said, without giving further information.  Jihoon stood up, grabbing the keys to the newest motorcycle and his helmet.  He put it on, not bothering to flip down the visor. “Okay. I think I can find you.”  Jihoon replied, looking around his house. It was empty, clean and polished. No sign that anyone else was there, so he locked the door.  Some days he didn’t even know when his parents or parent got home, or some random stranger who had been told they could stay there. Jihoon was used to all sorts of people dropping by.  No one had bothered him, at least not yet.

“Hey, are you okay?”  He asked after a moment’s consideration.  Jinyoung was silent. “Not really.” He finally said quietly.  “But I think I will be, given enough time.” Jihoon appreciated the honest answer.  He was used to the lies Woojin had told him repeatedly, even when they were high on drugs and alcohol and kisses.  It had been a relationship of lies, Woojin telling him he was fine and nothing was going on and he loved him and Jihoon repeating the last one back to him too many times to count.

He didn’t believe in real love.  That was a concept, what people told themselves to tie themselves for others.  ‘In the name of love’-there was no such thing. It was just people lying to themselves, wanting a reason greater than them why they wanted to be close to someone.  Jihoon was scared of people leaving, but he wouldn’t want them to stay because of false words. They should stay if they wanted to, if they were willing to. He ignored the fact that, so far, no one had been.

Maybe Jinyoung would be different, the wild thought entering his mind without permission.  Jihoon laughed at himself as he boarded the bike, rolling his eyes. He hardly knew Jinyoung, just harbored a curiosity and the occasional urge to do things like ask him to competitions and for his number.  Jinyoung was an enigma to Jihoon, what Jihoon wanted to be himself.

He wondered exactly which bus stop Jinyoung had meant, but if he drove fast enough, he would find him eventually.  They could always miss the first act, if it came to that, or skip entirely. The options were open, and Jihoon was determined to have all of them involve Jinyoung, whether or not it involved the competition.  

The first one went without a sign of anyone, nevertheless a Bae Jinyoung.  Jihoon drove faster, aware of the ticking clock. Who was to say that Jinyoung had even stayed there and not given up on him?  That thought created a sick feeling in Jihoon’s stomach; it churned in an unpleasant way, making him feel worse. Jinyoung wouldn’t have done that-he was patient and didn't have another ride.  Plus, he had promised. He had  _ promised. _

Jihoon took promises seriously, even if he took hardly anything else like more than a light hearted joke.  Even if he had broken a fair few of his own, he held them close to his heart and felt a little piece disappear when one of them failed out.  Jinyoung wouldn’t do that to him, even if Jihoon was sure others would jump to the chance. Not that Jinyoung owed him anything at all. 

Thankfully, though, he spotted a thin figure sitting on the bus bench at the second stop.  Grinding to a stop a couple of yards in front, Jihoon carefully backed up so that he was in front of Jinyoung, who was looking down at his hands.  Even from the short distance, Jihoon could see that his eyes were red and puffy. 

He got off his bike, taking off the helmet in his gloved hands, and letting it rest over one of the handles.  Jinyoung didn’t look up, even though his ears perked slightly at the sound of Jihoon’s approaching footsteps, echoing on the cement.  Jihoon stopped in front of him, gauging how upset he was.

“Are you ready?”  Jihoon asked after a long moment of Jinyoung avoiding his eyes still, sitting motionless beneath him.  He was like a statue, unmoving, unresponsive. “Not yet.” He finally said, the words leaving him in a single breath, a whisper that was caught on the wind and ripped away into nothing. 

Jihoon knelt in front of him, taking off one of his leather driving gloves, and lifting Jinyoung’s chin.  “Hey,” He said. “Look at me.” Jinyoung raised his eyes quickly, swallowing visibly. He looked terrible, bruises darkening on the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, eyes dark and filled with tears, puffy from pain or crying, Jihoon couldn’t tell.  He sucked in a small breath, reaching out to touch one of the marks as gently as possible. Jinyoung flinched back, his whole body recoiling. He looked embarrassed, as if he couldn’t help it.

“Yah, what happened?”  Jihoon demanded. Jinyoung leaned away from him, coughing and wiping his mouth with his sleeve.  He looked angry, Jihoon realized, not sad or afraid, just upset and angry. The kind of angry you felt when you were trapped in a cage and struggling to get out, humiliated by your own weakness and stupidity.  A self loathing hatred, what Jihoon had felt before he realized he could beat it.

“I told you.”  His voice was full of spite.  “I have bigger things to be afraid of than you, Park Jihoon.”  Jihoon realized with a start that he was quoting what he had said to Jihoon on that bus ride what felt like years ago, after the bathroom where Jihoon had seen his bruises and asked;  _ Did Woojin do that? _

It made sense now, how everything aligned with each other and fell into place.  Jihoon felt sick again, a kind of sick anger and fear and the urge to punch something.  Jinyoung was so  _ small _ and thin; he couldn’t take care of himself.  Maybe he could pack a punch, but in the end he didn’t have what it took to be a real fighter, to stand up to others with fists instead of words.  Jihoon was sure that Jinyoung could tear down enough people if they let him use his tongue or write with a pen, spreading around his cynicism.

“Jinyoung.”  He said, trying to put more into the word than just his name, for the feeling he felt and the emotion behind it all.  Jinyoung looked away, jawline fierce, hair falling in a dark sweep over his left eye. “It doesn’t matter.” He said, voice thick.  “I’ll be eighteen soon, and then I’m getting out of this trash dump into a better life, wherever that might be.”

Jihoon remembered Jinyoung’s father, the one time Jinyoung had stayed late, his hands tightening on the backpack straps, the way he’d visibly tensed.  Without thinking, Jihoon reached forward and wrapped his arms around Jinyoung, pulling him in tightly and hugging him as if he was the only thing in the world.

He felt so fragile, as if he was a bird with hollow bones who would snap at any moment.  Jihoon blinked away his own tears as Jinyoung slowly lost his rigid posture, falling into him like they were crashing.  “You do that.” Jihoon said against his hair. “You go and be a world famous artist, somewhere far away from here. And then, maybe, one day, I’ll go to your gallery and see you again.”

Jinyoung pulled back, not in a get away way, but in a satisfied way, that they had hugged long enough and it was time to let go.  “Maybe.” He acknowledged, mouth twisting into a half smile. “But first, let’s go to that competition that you wanted to see so badly.”  Jihoon smiled warmly, touching his cheek, cupping his face for a split second. He let himself bask in the warmth of that half smile for a moment longer, then stood up and offered out his hand.

“Sure.”  He said easily.  “Let’s go.” Jinyoung accepted his hand, and Jihoon pulled him to his feet, not letting go or looking away for a moment.

 

_ Guanlin _

He raised his hand, prepared to knock.  Guanlin could hear piano music inside, drifting out in the minor key, a heart wrenching tune that made him feel wobbly.  He could picture Seonho at the piano, body moving with his hands as the music flowed from his fingertips, almost tangible in the air.  As if you could see the notes spinning past, your hands getting tangled in them when you reached up.

Making his hand move, Guanlin rapped on the door ,then let his arm fall to his side.  The piano music stopped, and he heard the sounds of movement inside. A moment later the door opened a crack, Seonho peeking his head out.  His features tightened at the sight of Guanlin, and then he moved to slam the door shut.

Guanlin stuck his foot in between the door and the frame, wincing as it nearly crushed his toes.  “I’ll perform with you, okay? So you don’t have to do it alone.” He blurted out, remembering the lyrics crumpled in the inner pocket of his dark green bomber.  Seonho stopped trying to close the door, peering up at him. He took off his glasses, nudging the door open a little more, and rubbed them on the edge of his shirt.

He was in a suit, the first time Guanlin had seen him in something so nice.  It put him together, making him look as mature as he was, responsible and in charge.  The blazer was slightly too big, the tail coats hanging down like loose pieces of fabric.  He’d rolled up the pant bottoms too, a subtle change Guanlin wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t trying to focus on his shoes to avoid having his eyes dart around.

Still, Seonho looked good.  He looked grown up, even though they were both only fifteen.  Well, almost sixteen, more so than fifteen, but it was still just two digits with a one in the front.  Running his fingers through his hair, Seonho replaced his glasses and straightened, as if he was mentally telling himself to man up and stand straight, lift his chin high.

“You don’t know what song I’m playing.”  Seonho said. “I can improvise this to anything.  I’ve been practicing with different rhythms.” Guanlin replied, surging with adrenaline and determination.  “I can do it if you let me. Let me prove it to you-” Seonho turned away, and Guanlin stopped talking, feeling the coldness settle between them.

“Do you know how hard it is for me to get on that stage and perform?”  Seonho asked after a moment, trailing his fingers over the small piano in the corner of the room.  Guanlin pushed open the door as quietly as possible, ducking inside. He pulled out his lyrics, folding the paper into small squares to keep his hands busy.

“I didn’t think you would be here.”  Guanlin said honestly. It had been a twenty five percent chance to find Seonho here, and he hadn’t thought he would.  “What changed your mind?” He remembered the viciousness with which Seonho had spat at him, saying he would never forgive him unless he figured out a way to get his name off the list.

Truthfully, Guanlin hadn’t even tried.  He knew it was irreversible, well, he had been ninety nine percent sure it was irreversible, but another part of him had said to wait it out.  To see if Seonho would eventually realize that Guanlin had been right all along. That he did want to perform, deep inside.

Maybe Guanlin really was selfish and narrow minded.  Maybe he really only did this all for himself, and not for Seonho.  He had never listened to him, even with the fights, even up until now, with Seonho looked broken down and defeated, as if he had given in just to please Guanlin and get it over with.

“I thought I’d go and look for closure.  See if I needed to face this, this fear, for it to stop haunting me.”  Seonho looked over his shoulder at him, eyes gleaming. “At the end of this night I’m going to walk off this stage and not look back, leave and leave this place forever, leave everything that’s been weighing me down behind here.  Leave last year behind and move on and never think about it again.”

He paused, smiling to himself.  “I’m thinking of trying for Juilliard when I’m older, after I get out of school.  I want to try for early admission. The sooner I’m out of this place, the better. You were right, a little bit-I did want this.  Or not want, I need this. Even if it pains me, I think performing tonight will be for the best.”

Guanlin watched him curiously, seeing how he swallowed: realizing that the speech was just a speech and Seonho really was afraid to do this.  “Okay.” He said softly, lowering his head. There was a knock at the door, and a woman poked her head inside. “You’re on in two minutes.” She snapped, and Seonho bowed apologetically to her.

He moved towards the door.  “I guess you can come.’ He mumbled as he pushed it open, and Guanlin smiled to himself.  He shrugged off his bomber and left the lyrics behind, running after him. “Thanks!” He called to Seonho’s far away back, closing the distance in easy strides.

“Don’t mention it.”  Seonho replied quietly, twisting a silver ring on the pointer finger of his right hand.  Guanlin hadn’t noticed it before and he wondered if it was new, or if Seonho had just never worn it before.  Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed it and Seonho had been wearing it all this time. It wasn’t likely; Seonho’s hands were Guanlin’s favorite part of his body-the piano fingers and their dancing movements, the clear oval nails.

The stage was cloaked in shadow, and Seonho walked across it to the piano, motioning for Guanlin to follow.  He could hear the audience chattering, knowing that if he turned his head he would see them below him in rows of chairs.  There was the scrape of wood as Seonho pulled the piano bench out, sitting down.

Someone handed Guanlin a microphone, and he wondered if this was really a good idea, if he could really do this.   _ If Seonho can face it, so can you.   _ He told himself as the lights went on, a spotlight landing on them.  The world felt like it was rushing around him, lights and noise blurring, until it honed in on Seonho’s slim form and his shoulder blades through his jacket, his rigid posture as he started playing.

Guanlin had never been one for piano music, but Seonho made it sound beautiful and full of secrets.  It was so emotional, so full of elegant noise. He wasn’t sure when he started his rap, just that the words were flowing out of him in a way he couldn’t focus on.  He wondered if Seonho could hear the lyrics, though what he had written felt fuzzy even in his mind. 

The applause was thundering, Guanlin lowered the mike as Seonho rose and bowed, his tailcoats sweeping out, his edges cut in black and white.  They exited the stage, and Seonho pulled away. Guanlin followed him to the room, where Seonho put his sheet music back in the folder and picked up his backpack, swinging it onto his shoulders.  Guanlin shrugged his bomber back on, noticing that Seonho had picked up his lyrics, on accident or on purpose he couldn’t guess.

“Good performance.”  He said, and Seonho nodded, holding his gaze for a second longer.  He brushed past Guanlin, and Guanlin followed him into the hallway and to the front of the building, out onto the steps.  It was almost completely dark outside, and freezing, the stairs still a little slippery. At least it wasn’t snowing, at least one aspect was different.

Seonho stopped a little of the way ahead of him, looking back at where Guanlin was standing in the light of the one of the lamps by the doors.  “I’ll see you later,” He started, smiling what was more of a smirk. “Lai Guanlin.” Guanlin smiled at him and waved, watching as Seonho straightened his shoulders and walked down the stairs, blending in with the darkness.

Guanlin watched him go, watched him leave it all behind.  At the very bottom of the steps, Seonho turned back-not to look back at the building, but straight at Guanlin.  He lifted his hand in a half wave, then had turned around and disappeared before Guanlin could wave back. He let his half raised hand drop back to his side, saying in a whisper; “I’ll see you later too, Yoo Seonho.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the competition (and our final chapters/conclusion) starts! This is probably the last you'll see of the couples as I wrap their stories up (except for the epilogue) but there is only three or four chapters left I believe~


	18. Part O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was almost late on this haha. It's a little short, but oh well. Jinseop and Ongniel's stories wrap up in this, I know it leaves more to be desired (but that's what an epilogue is for oops)  
> Also, after this there is only two more chapters!!! I finally made it to 20 chapters lollll.

_ Daniel _

“You’re here.”  Coach said as Daniel entered the room, putting his bag down and starting to shrug off his sweatpants and sweatshirt.  He had on his boxing clothes underneath it, the netted fabric cold against his skin. He nodded, pulling out the long strips of white cloth he used to wrap his arms, beginning to wrap his arms from the elbow down carefully.

“I told you I wouldn’t miss it.”  Daniel replied grimly. “As if you’re still going to be out there in the ring.”  Coach replied in the same grim tone, crossing his muscular arms. Daniel paused in his wrapping, glancing at him from under his bangs.  “Don’t forget what I said.” He added, voice warning. “You need  _ me _ to fight out there if you think you have any chance of winning and continuing to be a coach.”

“Punk.”  Coach hissed, but his eyes were burning and Daniel knew he was right; so he continued wrapping as Coach stalked out of the room.  He adjusted his clothing, looking at him in the mirror. His eyes were shadowed with dark circles, hair falling over it, and he looked tired, but when he flexed, he smiled to himself.  He was still a formidable opponent, even if his outer appearance did not say so.

“Daniel, you’re on first.  Coach wants you to come and be ready to get on.”  One of the other boxers said, and Daniel nodded, closing his locker and zipping up his bag.   _ You can do this.  Remember Mom and Hyejin.  For them, you can win the prize.   _ It was money, of course, money and fame, but Daniel wasn’t interested in fame.  He didn’t want flashing lights and cameras and scandals-maybe he wanted that for dancing, but not for boxing. 

Instead, Daniel wanted his mom to come home some nights and to have a full dinner on the table, for Hyejin to fill out her bones and start hanging out with friends and never have to work at that stupid convenience store again.  Daniel wanted to quit boxing without worrying about how much they were losing and get a part time job, commit more to school and maybe start dancing again, more full time. Busking, perhaps.

Other people dreamed of being a damsel in distress, of glass castles and handsome princes and walls of thorns, but that was all Daniel wanted.  Simple happiness, for the next couple years of his life, just to be a simple family. Simple things were good things, simple was good, and though he had never particularly wanted the simplicity of life, simplicity didn’t come with issues.  

He walked towards the door, pushing them open.  He could hear the roar of the crowd, the sound of bodies hitting mats as the match before him wrapped up.  He closed his eyes and tried to picture it, how his stance would be and the beginning of the fight. They would pitch him against a bigger fighter, because Daniel was tall and muscular.  He would either defeat or be defeated. 

“Announcing the next competitors: Jung Taekwoon versus Kang Daniel!”  He heard the crowd roar, at the sound of him or Taekwoon, or maybe just the prospect of more sweat and blood, Daniel didn’t know.  The only thing he really detested about boxing was the crowds, how they cheered at any pain or anything, there for cheap entertainment.  It was the same at any space actually-the audience there for what the performers offered and not for the performers themselves. Daniel was used to feeling like a pawn in their games.

Still, he stood so that he seemed bigger and stronger than he was, striding out with a focused look on his face.  He was already assessing his opponent, who was taller than him by an inch or two and muscular, hard and compact muscle.  He looked strong, and Daniel mentally shook himself. Even if Taekwoon was muscular, Daniel had at least a couple of pounds on him because of his more bulky muscle instead of the more swimmer style muscle.

They sized each other up, pacing around each other in the ring as they wait for the ref to start off the game.  Taekwoon smiled at a loud scream from the audience, but Daniel had no one in the crowd for him. He never had. His mother was always working, and even if she wasn’t, she didn’t like the loud noise and how everyone screamed and crowded at the sight of people getting hurt.  It was also why she pulled Hyejin away from attending as well, which Daniel secretly agreed with-Hyejin was only fifteen, and matches were dangerous places.

Still, sometimes it made him feel alone.  Like he was outmatched, a thousand to one with the audience on his opponent’s side.  For a moment, Daniel thought he caught a glimpse of someone familiar, but the crowd swallowed them up before he could look closer.

“Opponents, take your places!”  The announcer roared into his mix.  Daniel stepped back and sank into his starting position; knees bent and fists forward.  His legs were his base, holding him up, but Daniel deflected the blows first and foremost with his arms.  A hit to the head could be fatal. So could a hit to the ribs or neck-a legal hit anyways-if it was the right enough spot to knock the breath out of him.  

“Begin!”  For a moment Daniel just stood there, waiting, and then Taekwoon lunged at him and the match began.  As Daniel had predicted, Taekwoon fought fast with agility. He probably did swim on the side-he punched and hit hard with his arms while moving quickly with his legs.  Usually, Daniel wouldn’t have been fazed by someone like him, destroying him with a couple thrusts to his side and a sweep of his legs. He would strike the back of his knees and sneak on a head hit that was almost illegal.

But today Daniel was off his game.  Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t boxed in so long, or that he was realizing boxing held  _ nothing _ for him.  He boxed because he hit things and let out anger, because he was good at that and it had got him somewhere that wasn’t where he had been.  He boxed because it kept him from his lonely house and everything else he couldn’t have. The truth was, Daniel doubted he was ever getting out of the life he was in.  He would stay for his sister, to earn money so she could get out and his mom would stop having to work shift after shift.

He got a hit in, right in the jaw, and Taekwoon stumbled back, Daniel hitting him in his ribs.  He could feel the familiar adrenaline coursing through his veins, reminding him of his power and ability.  But maybe Daniel had felt it too fast, had underestimated, because Taekwoon had moved faster than he had expected, clocking him squarely in the side.  Daniel was momentarily breathless-having been hit in the exact spot he had been trying to find on Taekwoon-and the boxing glove slammed into his face, making blinding pain explode in his eyes.  

Daniel felt himself fall, air whooshing past him, in an almost slow motion way, and he hit the mat, feeling dull inside.  His head bounced, but he could barely feel it; he only knew that it had happened. A whistle was blowing, the ropes snapping, and Daniel coughed, vaguely understanding that the red stuff dripping from his mouth was blood.  

People were running about, and he wondered if something bad had happened.  Maybe that was why his head hurt so badly; except he’d only been hit a little bit.  It wasn’t that bad, was it? He remembered Coach making him read through a list of deadly hits and injuries that you didn’t want to be dealt, rare occurrences that happened on accident mostly.  Daniel felt like dying. Was he already dead, watching this from above?

Feet appeared in front of him, the sound of them muffled by the mat, but Daniel couldn’t make his head move to look up.  It was Seongwoo, except Daniel couldn’t figure out why he would be there, or how he was there. He could be hallucinating, a dream caused by these strange circumstances.

“Hey, don’t move.”  Seongwoo whispered, kneeling and taking off one of his boxing gloves so that he could hold his head.  “The ambulance is going to here soon. You hurt your head, so stay very still so it won’t get worse.” Daniel started to nod, then he remembered that Seongwoo had told him not to move, so he made himself keep still, even though the idea of movement made him nauseous and dizzy, like he was on the verge of passing out. 

He blinked instead, hoping that Seongwoo would understand that he had heard and understand.  His hand was warm, and comforting, even as Daniel felt more blood trickle from his mouth and head, and all he could say as they lifted him onto a stretcher-someone putting a neck brace on him-was; “Don’t let go.”  The words blurring together as he slurred them, but Seongwoo nodded and didn’t.

 

_ Hyungseop _

Woojin still hadn’t called him, and doubt was beginning to settle in, over his mind.  Hyungseop had asked him not to bail on him, and Woojin had promised he wouldn’t, so why did this feel like Woojin bailing?   _ It’s only been half an hour.  Give it an hour, and then feel doubtful.   _ Still, his fingers nervously tapped a rhythm on his legs.

He was waiting outside of his house, the door locked behind him, the key safely tucked away.  It was cold, but Hyungseop had put on his puffy parka, the hood making it near impossible to see.  He closed his eyes and leaned back, feeling snow drifting across his exposed skin. At points like this, when he was alone and vulnerable, everything became a little more blurred and a little more difficult.  Hyungseop knew he fought a constant battle, but he had thought that if he found the right people to slow his fall, he would be alright.

Maybe he couldn’t do this.  Maybe he was already falling apart, the tree branch he had caught and used as a weapon disintegrating in his hands.  Especially tonight, when Hyungseop closed his eyes and didn’t see darkness. He saw the fire and the shattering glass and the falling concrete and how one had slammed into him and how he had lain there for what felt like days, wondering why he couldn’t feel his leg,  _ where was his leg. _

Hyungseop remembered how Woojin hadn’t called him last time, and he considered calling Woojin himself, but something stopped his hands.  A part of him wanted Woojin to call him first, to prove to Hyungseop that this friendship wasn’t a one sided mission, that he cared enough to hold on and give Hyungseop a new weapon to fight with.  He had been waiting for someone to do that, but while others had teased him, reaching out and drawing back, Hyungseop had fallen every single time. A little more, and then a little more, until he was on the very edge with only a rock keeping him in place.    

He waited some more, and then began to accept that he had been stupid and naive after all.  Hyungseop had thought he had learned not to be gullible, to fall as quickly as he had used to, but there was always going to be someone to rip him off his feet and throw him into chaos.  Hyungseop had just picked the wrong person to do that to him.

Then his phone rang, and even as he tried to keep his hopes tampered, they still sprang into his throat like butterflies.  It was Woojin, and any other time Hyungseop would have answered the phone immediately, but this time he halted for a moment and remembered that it had been over an hour since their arranged time had passed.  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pick up the phone and hear the words he had been dreading.

Still, Hyungseop picked up because he had already lost his grip, and he wanted to hear Woojin’s voice.  No, he  _ needed  _ to hear another human’s voice so he could remember that he wasn’t alone in this cold world, dead leaves blowing across the ground and an empty house shuttered closed behind his back.  

“You’re late.”  Hyungseop said accusingly into the receiver, and he heard Woojin let out a soft breath.  “Sorry about that, but I’m going to have to ditch you on this one.” He replied evenly, and it hurt, tiny little knives stabbing Hyungseop where he was vulnerable.  “You promised you wouldn’t.” Hyungseop told him, wounded.

Woojin sighed sharply, and it hurt Hyungseop’s eyes, the bright static of it.  “I wasn’t going to, but something really unexpected came up.” Hyungseop was silent.  “Why.” He finally asked in a flat voice, feeling all the hope and energy drain out of him.  He could pick out the strangeness in Woojin’s voice underneath his bravado and apathy.

“I know you well enough to know that you’re lying to me.”  Hyungseop added. Woojin snorted. “Why? Because we talked a couple of times and told each other our deepest, darkest secrets?”  He sounded patronizing now, putting it on thick. Hyungseop chewed on his lip, worrying it. 

“You don’t have to be a jerk.”  He said quietly, making himself stay calm and under control.  Woojin might have been saying some part of the truth, but Hyungseop had been observing him for much longer than that.  He knew all the layers he had, had peeled them back as much as you could mentally. He knew that Woojin was bitter like this because it was his default when he didn’t want to feel anything else.  Anger was easy for him because it was what he showed the rest of the world, the violent bully Woojin.

“I am a jerk, and I’m fine with it.”  Woojin snapped back, but he hissed in a sharp intake of breath at the end of the words, and Hyungseop knew something was wrong.  “What’s going on, Woojin? Are you hurt?” He asked urgently. Woojin coughed, but it was muffled, like he had leaned away. “I’m good.”  He said.

“Anyways, I’m sorry I can’t make it, and I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll be fine with a rain check.  But this is how the world goes, Hyungseop, so I’m sorry about that. What a harsh wake up to reality this must have been.”  Woojin added drily. “What’s your problem?” Hyungseop snapped, forgetting to be chill and calm for a moment.

“I don’t know.”  Woojin sounded a mix of lost and small, like he really didn’t have a snappy comeback for once.  “I have to go now.” He added, voice distant, but Hyungseop wasn’t going to just let him go, not with only a couple of vague sentences to explain himself.  “No, you’re going to listen to me.” He said, voice steely.

“Look, I asked you to come with me because I needed to be with someone today, and I’m not letting you bail out just because you felt like lying and ditching me.  I’ve been trying for the better part of the school year for you to at least be something to me, at least an acquaintance, and now that we’ve finally gotten somewhere, what, you want to back out?”  

“And that’s exactly why.”  Woojin cut in. “Why did you even bother with me?  Why me, of all the other people you could have made your pet?  I’m used to being alone, you know.” Hyungseop drew in a breath, rubbing at his eyes in a mix of tiredness and sadness.  “Because you’re you, Woojin, you’re you and you’re not fake or anything.”

“Don’t give me crap like that.  I want a real answer.” Woojin spat back, and Hyungseop saw how the back of his coat was wet from tears.  “Well, it certainly wasn’t so you could be my pet or whatever.” He knew the words he needed to say, but they were clogging up in his throat, stopping himself from saying them.  

“I told you to tell me!”  Woojin yelled, but his voice broke, and Hyungseop was angry and sad, it all brimming up and overflowing.  “Because I needed a friend!” He yelled back, raising his voice louder than he ever had before. “And I thought that maybe you needed one too, but I guess I was wrong and stupid.  I’ve never been good at the social thing, you know, but I did try, because I’m not just a number one student, that’s just who I show everyone else, and I saw that same thing in you.”  He paused to take in air, breathing ragged. 

Woojin was quiet, but he was still there, listening, and Hyungseop could hear him crying softly.  “I’m not an uncaring person, in fact, I’m far from it. I’m falling apart, Woojin, and I don’t want to.  I want to move on, but I can’t. Maybe I was selfish to get you just to help myself, but aren’t we all? We’re human beings, we’re far from perfect as well.  I thought, why not take a chance and see where this goes?”

There was what sounded like a sob, and then other noise, like broken glass.  “Woojin, are you okay?” Hyungseop asked, knowing his own eyes were filled with tears.  “No, no I’m really not. You made me sad.” Woojin said in a tiny voice, and then he broke off into tears.  It felt like Hyungseop’s heart was being ripped apart at the sound, torn and torn and torn.

“Youngmin and Donghyun were part of the casualties last year.  I didn’t know them well, but they were still my only friends, and then they were just gone.  We didn’t even get the chance to perform.” Woojin sniffled. “And now I’ve already fallen apart, and I; I’m just here and I’m failing again and again to keep myself up.  Saying that high school is the best time of your life is utter crap, this is the cruddiest time ever.”

He half laughed, and it made Hyungseop laugh too.  “Are you gonna rain check me, or will you meet me at the Cafe in the Wall?”  Hyungseop asked, smiling now, though his eyes were still teary, heart still a little numb and torn.  “I can be there in ten.” Woojin answered, and Hyungseop realized he had never told him what was wrong, but they were already saying goodbye.  

He didn’t get the chance to ask, but he forgot about it and left to go meet him anyways, so Hyungseop supposed it hadn’t mattered in the long run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little self promotion: I started a new chaptered fanfiction for Stray Kids and I would appreciate you checking it out if you're a fan, it's second on my dash (Will We Ever Find Our Neverland?)  
> Thank you for reading as always!


	19. Part P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a week late again lol. I've been really busy with SK and I'm very low motivated to write this. But after this, only one chapter left-the epilogue! It'll be short and I'll probably post it in a few days because I want to be done with this story.

_ Jonghyun _

Minhyun was waiting for him at the bottom of the steps, listening to music and texting someone on his phone.  At least, that’s what it looked like. Jonghyun jogged over, trying to ignore how his lungs rattled and his body ached.  It was just the cold, which was particularly numbing today of all days. 

“Boo.”  Jonghyun said, waving a hand in front of Minhyun’s face.  He jolted, back hitting the pillar he had been standing in front of.  Jonghyun rocked back on his heels, grinning. “You startled me.” Minhyun said softly, putting his earbuds again, but his eyes looked happy, so Jonghyun kept smiling.  Minhyun linked his arm through Jonghyun’s as they turned to walk up the stairs, not in a possessive way, but just casually, like he wasn’t thinking much of it.

That was okay.  Jonghyun didn’t mind if Minhyun wanted to keep him close, even if they had to stop after a couple of stairs because he couldn’t feel air entering and leaving his lungs.  Minhyun asked him if he was okay, but Jonghyun shook it off quickly, breathing through his nose. It had been acting up, and last night Jonghyun had coughed and it had come away red, but he was okay.

This had happened before and he had still been okay.  Now he only had to push himself for a couple more hours and then he could go home and sleep-preferably after kissing Minhyun.  And even if it felt different this time, his limbs too trembly, his body too weak, Jonghyun could ignore it for a little longer by telling himself he had taken his pills and would be fine.

Jonghyun was an excellent liar, especially at lying to himself.  Minhyun looked like he was someplace distant, probably going over lyrics or choreography in his head.  Still, he managed to smile widely at Jonghyun and keep his hand firmly around his waist, even as they passed the other competitors.  Jonghyun wanted to take his confidence and put it in a bottle, then drink it when they were about to perform.

He didn’t have stage fright, not really, but the idea of performing made his palms sweat.  Jonghyun was glad that Minhyun had stopped holding his hand as he wiped them on his jeans. “Nervous?”  Minhyun whispered in his ear, Jonghyun shying away as his breath tickled him. Maybe he hadn’t been as far away as Jonghyun had thought.

“A little.”  He admitted. “But less because it’s with you.”  Minhyun practically glowed at that, turning away, and Jonghyun smiled at the dusting of pink across his cheekbones.  They found an empty room with one of the volunteer’s help, the lights flickering on dimly. It was barren except for a couple chairs and the countertop, mirrors reflecting their images back in ghostly light from the fluorescents.

“Don’t look.”  Minhyun teased as he turned away, taking off his jacket and shirt to change into one he had brought for the performance.  Jonghyun watched his back muscles move, shoulder blades sharp, like he should have wings protruding from between them. “I said not to look.”  Minhyun said as he turned around, buttoning up his shirt. Jonghyun shrugged, swinging his legs.

“Can’t blame me for enjoying the view.”  He said with a tiny smile, and Minhyun laughed.  “No, I don’t suppose I can. Are you ready?” Jonghyun glanced down at himself.  He’d refused the outfit Minhyun had tried to give him, opting for a dressy white shirt and pressed black pants, with his nicest shoes.  He wondered if anyone would notice that they were high tops, a faded pink pair he had drawn on the soles of.

Minhyun looked slightly classier, with his loose shirt and neat jeans, but if they stood next to each other, they looked like a pair.  Almost, if Jonghyun straightened his shoulders and looked a little healthier, if he could hold all the confidence Minhyun oozed as he walked.  Because even if they looked alike, and acted alike, they still weren’t quite equals. Minhyun was still someone who had everything, even if he wasn’t using it, and Jonghyun was still someone who had come from nothing.

But, thankfully, Minhyun didn’t care about, and so, around him, Jonghyun didn’t care about it either.  “Do you want me to do your makeup?” Minhyun asked, procuring a makeup bag from thin air. Jonghyun hadn’t given much thought to makeup, so he nodded and hopped into one of the few chairs there was.  He had never really worn makeup before, occasionally some to cover his eyebags, and a little eye makeup, but nothing as far as what Minhyun had planned.

“Close your eyes.”  Minhyun commanded. “I will make a hundred times more beautiful than you are.”  “Calling me ugly?” Jonghyun choked, grinning, and Minhyun smacked his thigh. “Shut your mouth before I color your teeth with this lipstick.”  Jonghyun shut his mouth, unsuccessfully trying to keep a smile of them. He liked Minhyun like this, playful, acting like his age.

He felt Minhyun’s breath tickling him as he moved the brush over his eyelashes and cheeks, putting on blush and lipstick and whatever else he had brought.  Occasionally, he would gasp and give Jonghyun a compliment on ‘his beautiful cheekbones’ and ‘his very long eyelashes’. Jonghyun couldn’t tell how serious he was being, most of the time.

“How pretty.”  Minhyun murmured as he sat back, putting the last tool away.  Jonghyun opened his eyes, looking over in the mirror. He smiled to himself, unsure if he liked the look or not, but knowing that he did look good.  “You did a good job.” He acknowledged, and Minhyun practically beamed, and Jonghyun knew it was all worth it.

“Of course I did.”  Minhyun replied smugly, and Jonghyun kicked him lightly, but Minhyun flinched away and fell onto the ground.  “You wound me.” He moaned, and Jonghyun laughed, kneeling besides him. “You’re just weak.” He teased. “We both know I couldn’t hurt you if I tried.”  Minhyun sat up suddenly, looking him straight in the eye.

“You could.”  He said softly.  “Without even meaning to.”  Jonghyun stared back at him, unsure.  He didn’t ask how, because Minhyun was already saying it.  “If you ever left,” Minhyun started. “I wouldn’t be okay after that.  If you said goodbye-” His words were halting, and Jonghyun realized he was being serious, because he looked sad, eyes pointedly focused on the ceiling.

“I wouldn’t.”  He said softly, but the words felt like a lie as he said them.  There were some things in life, one thing in his life, that would pull him away with both of them helpless to stop it, and Jonghyun knew it.  He wanted to tell Minhyun then, badly wanted to tell him, but he bit his tongue. They were about to perform, and he knew Minhyun would perform better if he didn’t know at that moment.   _ After.  I’ll tell him after the performance.   _ Jonghyun decided, but he wasn’t sure if he was willing to.

He had been living with it for five years, and he had been okay, so Jonghyun was sure he could be okay for a little bit longer, maybe even for five years more.  He knew he was lying to himself as he thought it, because it was worse now, it was noticeable to himself and maybe to others as well. 

Minhyun stood up and dusted off his pants, gallantly extending a hand to haul Jonghyun to his feet.  Jonghyun accepted, letting himself marvel in how their hands fit together so perfectly, how it felt to hold something and think  _ mine _ , how he would have this for now.  “We have ten minutes.” He announced.  “Do you want to watch the performances before ours?”  Jonghyun nodded, interested in what else was being put on.

They left, the room darkening behind them, and he felt like they were walking forward, into something new.  Maybe into a future, if Minhyun wanted to have one with him. Jonghyun didn’t know if he was going to college, he had applied to a few places and been rejected from a few more, got some scholarships from a couple more.  He hadn’t replied to any of them yet, because he didn’t know what choice was best for him. 

He wondered what Minhyun was doing for college, then wondered why he was wondering.  Would it really change his ultimate decision?  _ Yes, yes it would.   _ His mind whispered, but Jonghyun told it to shut up.  He could think about this some other time; he needed to relax now and check out the competition.

Jonghyun didn’t really want or need to win the competition, but he wondered if Minhyun did.  They hadn’t really talked about that either, they hadn’t talked about much but the past and the present, and Jonghyun suddenly wanted to grab his hand and make him sit down and tell him everything he wanted to do.  He wanted Minhyun to tell him what his ambitions were, what he was doing for college, what his favorite things were, if he wanted to travel and where he wanted to go.

It suddenly felt like time was moving too fast, closing in on him, and Jonghyun wanted to know everything before he went with it.  He smiled at Minhyun’s back, noticing again how he held his shoulders taut, how he walked like he had been taught with a ruler pressed against his spine.  Jonghyun wouldn’t have found it surprising if he had been, given what the few facts Minhyun had dropped about his family.

He remembered the first time they had talked to each other, Minhyun’s accusatory tone, and how his expression had softened just a tiny bit when he realized Jonghyun wasn’t exactly everyone else.  He had come a long way, and now Jonghyun knew him enough to realize that hadn’t really been his Minhyun, it had been the Minhyun who thought he had to fight the world to beat it, instead of realizing they could coincide.

“They look pretty good.”  Minhyun said, fidgeting as he tried to look around the curtain without being caught by the many volunteers scurrying around.  Jonghyun could see he was more visibly nervous now, fingers tapping against his thighs. He was about to ask why he was so keyed up, but Minhyun gave him the answer before he could say anything.

“I told my dad about the competition.  I think he might be coming. I’m not sure.  I don’t even care if he brings his new girlfriend or whatever, I just want him to see that I’m good at something.”  Minhyun looked at the ground, like a soft and vulnerable boy suddenly. “I just want him to see me.” He said in a whisper that was barely there.  Jonghyun understood, at least a little bit. 

He had never wanted people to notice him, only enough so that he could get by and pay the bills that wouldn’t pay themselves or disappear, to top schools so colleges might give his applications a second look.  Jonghyun wasn’t sure if it was even worth it at this point, with college and universities a blurry question mark on the horizon mark, and money just another pile of bills people thought were really worth something.

But he understood why Minhyun wanted his father to see him, because his father was a politician.  He was part of something bigger than anything else, an entire system, and Minhyun couldn’t compare to bills and laws that needed to be looked at.  A whole country was more important than just one boy who was vying to be noticed. Jonghyun knew what Minhyun was thinking, that if he performed and won that his father would have something to acknowledge.

“I think he will.”  Jonghyun said softly.  “Even if we don’t win.”  He added. Minhyun looked over at him, opening his mouth, but Jonghyun placed a finger on his lips.  “And if all he sees is a trophy in someone else’s hands, then he’s blind, and he doesn’t deserve someone as wonderful as you.”  Minhyun smiled, but Jonghyun could tell he was still bothered by it. He knew his words hadn’t fixed anything, but he took comfort in the fact that Minhyun might remember them.

“We’re on in two minutes.”  Minhyun announced suddenly, and Jonghyun realized a volunteer had come up and told him.  He led Jonghyun to the wings, right at the back of the stage, and Jonghyun drew in a breath in preparation, making sure his microphone was on properly.   _ This is it,  _ he thought quietly.

For a moment, he was paralyzed on the stage, and then the music flowed from the speakers and Jonghyun remembered the words as Minhyun squeezed his hand.  Minhyun lifted his microphone to his mouth and started to sing, and Jonghyun let the song they had recorded and wrote together flow over him like water. 

It was amazing, and Jonghyun couldn’t help but watch Minhyun more than the crowd, how elegant he looked when performing.  He smiled and it was a smile for the audience, like he was sharing a secret for everyone. His voice was melodious, even more so than Jonghyun remembered.  He wished he could record it in the highest definition, keep it as a memory forever.

They bowed together, Minhyun wrapped his fingers tightly around Jonghyun’s, giving him the grin that he recognized from their time alone.  He liked it, how it made his eyes turn into almost crescents of happiness. “You were amazing.” He whispered in his ear, and Jonghyun whispered back; “You’re beautiful.”  

The cheers followed them, and Jonghyun reached up to take off his headset, pressing his temples.  They were starting to ache; maybe the headset had been too tight. “You don’t look well.” Minhyun observed, taking the mic from him and passing them to a volunteer.  “Ah, I just have a headache.” Jonghyun said with a wry smile, and Minhyun gave him a sympathetic pat.

Jonghyun took a step forward, and then the floor was rushing up to meet him.  Minhyun screamed, but pain was flashing through Jonghyun’s head, black clouding out everything else.   _ Jonghyun, Jonghyun, open your eyes… _

 

_ Daehwi _

“You’re going to be great.”  Daehwi said, adjusting Samuel’s jacket.  Samuel squirmed, pulling at his collar. “Not if I’m choking when I’m trying to sing.”  He complained. Daehwi smacked his hand away. “If you would stop choking yourself because you’re messing with it so much, you’ll be fine.”  Samuel rolled his eyes but obliged, folding his hands behind his back. 

Daehwi reached around, straightening, letting his hand brush the bare skin of Samuel’s collarbone and throat.  Samuel smiled, caught his hand, and Daehwi’s heart sped up like it did everytime. Now that he had him, he had no intention of letting Samuel go.  “You’re going to be great.” He said.

Samuel laughed.  “You already said that.”  Daehwi blushed; he had. “It’s okay.”  Samuel added, stepping back and eyeing himself in the full length mirror.  They had gotten a nice room, for the two of them, but now they were just hanging out as they wanted.  Daehwi hadn’t dressed this nice in a long time, wearing slim sneakers and jeans, a slightly loose shirt and a bomber from one of the shops in Seoul his mom had bought without his knowledge.

“So,”  Samuel started, turning to face him.  He looked grown up, brown haircut a little short and swept up, makeup on his eyes, legs long in his suit.  “After this, do you want to get something to eat? Like, on a proper date. I know it’s sudden, but I would like to try again.”  Daehwi laughed.

“You mean when we’re not awkward and I break down?”  Samuel blushed, cheeks tinted a brilliant pink. “That’s not what I meant.”  He muttered. “I know.” Daehwi said. “I was just teasing you. And, yes, I would like that.”  He felt shy saying the words, the two of them just blushing for a long moment, until the door banged open.

Sungwoon stood there, panting.  He looked surprised to find Daehwi in there, as if he had only been expected Samuel, or maybe someone else entirely.  “I...um, the dances are starting, if you guys want to watch.” He announced sheepishly, running his fingers through his hair.  “Did you need something else?” Samuel asked, looking puzzled. Daehwi couldn’t help but peer around Sungwoon’s shoulder, expecting Jaehwan and Jisung to be right on his tail.  Though usually it was the other way around, Sungwoon following as the other two lead.

“No.”  Sungwoon shook his head so quickly that Daehwi was almost positive that he had unfinished words in his mouth, but then he darted away.  Samuel shook his head slowly. “Want to watch?” Daehwi asked quietly. Samuel thought about it, then shook his head. “I don’t want to stress myself out more.”  Daehwi wouldn’t have guessed that Samuel got nervous, but he figured that big stages would do that to a person.

They sat comfortably on the floor, Daehwi twiddling his thumbs.  He was beginning to feel increasingly nervous about the upcoming performance, heart slamming in his chest.  It had been a while...could he still do it? His legs were starting to ache-no, that was phantom pain from the accident.  They had been working for ages now, it was going to be okay. Still, his mind conjured up images of falling and failure.

Samuel seemed to sense that he didn’t want to talk, so they waited in silence, until Samuel was called to wait in the wings.  Daehwi trailed after him, making sure to smile when Samuel glanced back at him, but his mind was consumed with thoughts. He felt someone take his hand, and he looked over at Samuel, who gave him a reassuring smile.

“Hold my hand until I have to perform?  I’m nervous.” He whispered with a smile, but he didn’t look nervous.  Daehwi nodded, making himself smile. They stood like that, in the half darkness, just the warmth of his palm.  And then Samuel was ushered forward, and Daehwi stepped back, letting him go.

Samuel danced like he always had, except it was more, it was amazing, it was everything they had practiced with even more emotion.  Daehwi smiled proudly, eyes crinkling as Samuel sang the song he had helped him record, vocals even more pure and sweet than they had been in the studio.  

And then he was done, in less than three minutes, running backstage and hugging Daehwi suddenly.  Daehwi almost froze, but then he relaxed and wrapped his arms around Samuel. A volunteer eyed them skeptically.  “I told you you would rule them all.” Daehwi whispered, and Samuel giggled, high and giddy.

“Everything was just so awesome, Dae.”  Daehwi felt a rush of fondness from the nickname.  He wanted Samuel to say it again, but he only squeezed him a little tighter.  “Was I really good?” Daehwi pulled back, nodding brightly. He felt better now that Samuel was happy, cheeks pink, smile almost taking up his entire face.  “Of course you were. I’ve told you a million times.” Daehwi joked, and Samuel slugged him in the shoulder, sticking out his tongue.

“Excuse me,”  A volunteer came up to them, tapping Daehwi on the shoulder.  “You need to perform now.” Daehwi quickly unattached himself, nodding.  He waved to Samuel, following the volunteer to the curtains. They pulled back a little bit, and Daehwi caught a glimpse of the stage; lights shining down on them and-

He couldn't.  He couldn’t make his legs move, couldn’t force himself out there to perform.  His palms were sweating, his heart palpitating, and even though he hadn’t had one in a while, Daehwi could tell he was on the verge of a panic attack.  “Dae?” Samuel called, running over, and Daehwi couldn't even smile, could only gasp out; “I can’t breathe.”

“If you can talk, you can breathe.”  Samuel told him firmly, hands gripping his shoulder.  Daehwi shook his head, breathe coming fast and staticky.  “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t do it, I can’t perform.” He was hit by the memory of all his other performances, how it had felt, but they had turned into nightmares instead of daydreams.  

Instead of arguing, or forcing him to do it, Samuel only nodded and said; “Okay.”  He hugged Daehwi tighter, rocking him back and forth until he could breathe.

 

Samuel won first place, of course he did.  Daehwi watched from the shadows, until Samuel yanked him onstage with him, publicly thanked him.  “If it wasn’t for Daehwi;” He said into the microphone. “I wouldn’t have been able to make and choreograph this song.  Give him a hand!” Daehwi smiled as people applauded, glad that Samuel still had an arm around him. 

“Ready for our date?”  Samuel asked in his ear, and Daehwi nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm super unsatisfied with Daehwi's part, it was really rushed. 
> 
> Thank you for 4k hits though???? 
> 
> See you guys soon~


	20. Part Q; Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally just wrote all of this in like half an hour lol. It's just a short epilogue a year after everything, enjoy ^^

 

_ Minhyun _

Minhyun knocked on the door, pushing it open when a faint voice said he could come in.  Jonghyun was sitting in a wheelchair, smiling at him. Minhyun held out his bouquet of flowers, an array of colors.  “Happy birthday.” He said, sitting down beside Jonghyun. Jonghyun took the flowers, admiring them. He brought them up to his face, taking a deep smell.

“They’re beautiful, thank you.”  He said, grinning radiantly. Minhyun smiled back, twisting the ring on his finger.  It had been a little over a year since Jonghyun’s collapse, and he was still stuck in a part of the hospital.  The nurses had told Minhyun he probably wouldn’t be able to leave, his sickness was at a point so extreme that it would almost be deadly.  Minhyun visited whenever he could, paying the bills too. He had talked to his father, the first time in months for that, and with a little help from Aron, things had worked out.

He had graduated safely in May; so far Minhyun didn’t have plans for college, but he knew Jonghyun was taking a couple online classes.  Jonghyun had never known how to not work hard, and he would never just sit placidly doing nothing. Minhyun had been considering going to the states like Aron had done, but in the end, he couldn’t leave Jonghyun.

“My mom visited earlier.”  Jonghyun announced, setting the flowers on his lap.  Minhyun looked at him in surprise. “Really?” He asked, and Jonghyun nodded.  “I called her a couple of months ago to finally tell her; I know the hospital called her, but they said she didn't return their call.  I wasn’t expecting her to come, but she did. She has twins now, but they’re only babies. She gave me some money, to ‘pay me back for all the money I’ve given her’.  I told her I didn’t need it, I just needed her love? It wasn’t exactly the meeting I had pictured, but I guess it went better than most would have guessed.”

He didn’t look sad, so Minhyun guessed that he hadn’t lost many tears over it.  “How are our classmates doing?” Jonghyun asked, changing the subject. Minhyun smiled, settling back.  “Seongwoo got a job at a construction company. Daniel’s opening a studio, I think he asked Samuel to help him.  Jisung and Jaehwan are off at some around the world trip, Sungwoon’s staying here to open up a restaurant.”

“Daehwi and Samuel are officially the cutest couple in the school, I swear I see them being lovey dovey wherever I go, even though I’m no longer at the school.  Guanlin moved back to Taipei, and Seonho still facetimes him at times. I don’t think their relationship is that good though, Seonho holds grudges well, and Guanlin has messed up a fair amount of times.”  Jonghyun shook his head at this, tsking under his breath. Minhyun agreed with him; it was frustrating to see the two youngest side stepping around each other all the time.

“Woojin and Hyungseop are getting counseling together, they decided it would be good to try and move on together.  Both of them aren’t in a good place for a stable relationship, but I think they’re working towards it. Jinyoung took his dad to court with Jihoon’s help, with a public defender.  They found a place together and are moving in. Jihoon agreed to help with the studio, and he busks. Jinyoung is taking art classes, he’s his teacher’s favorite.” Minhyun continued.

Jonghyun laughed, a rich sound Minhyun wanted to capture and replay whenever he needed it.  “Obviously. That kid can draw anything.” Minhyun nodded in agreement. “And, as for us, well, I think I might try and sign up for some classes.  Also, my boyfriend and I just passed our one and a half years of dating anniversary.” He smiled, pulling out a bar of chocolate. “I know you’re not supposed to have sweet things, but a little chocolate never killed anyone.”

Taking it, Jonghyun bit into it.  He smiled, lighting up. “I haven’t had this in a while.”  He said mournfully. Then, more seriously; “Are you sure you want to keep doing this?  I’m not going to have forever. I can’t even walk anymore.” Minhyun smiled sadly, reaching forward and hugging Jonghyun as best as he could.

“You are my forever.”  He whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the story is now officially over. It's been my project since school started, and now it's over with 99 pages and 59,000 words. There were parts of this story I really liked and parts of it I really didn't, I hate it and I love it, it's my child :). 
> 
> Thank you for everyone who read, who even clicked on it, who left kudos, who commented, who subscribed.
> 
> It's been a ride.


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